


Blood, Fangs, and Annoying Blonds

by lightning_shaped_scars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Angst, Angst and Humor, Blood Exchange, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry Potter, Creature Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, First Time, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Humor, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Rimming, Seventh Year AU, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Top Draco Malfoy, Vampires, blood-mate, bond, fangs, mate bond, vampire!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 12:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6116710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightning_shaped_scars/pseuds/lightning_shaped_scars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something different about Malfoy, much to Harry's chargrin. What baffles the brunet the most however, is the sudden infatuation the Slytherin seems to have with him. On top of everything, why does Malfoy continue to stare at him like he's a walking feast on legs? This is going to be a very interesting year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet that was meant to be a one shot but I decided to break into chapters. Probably not too many, maybe 3-5 depending. Have been working this idea in my head for a while now... ENJOY!

“What do you mean Malfoy isn’t on the Slytherin team anymore?”

Harry shrugged, glancing at his best friend from across the Gryffindor table. “I had a look over the names of each house team. Malfoy’s wasn’t there.”

“Probably didn’t want Quidditch to interfere with his work,” Hermione offered from behind the Daily Prophet. “This is, after all, our N.E.W.T year.”

Ron snorted. “As if that ever stopped the ponce from trying to one-up us on the field.”

“I’m just saying,” Hermione replied with a shrug, placing the newspaper aside. “What other logical reason could there be?”

“Maybe he’s developed a fear of heights.” Ron grinned nastily. “Or maybe he got hexed with something nasty _down there_ …”

Harry rolled his eyes as Ron trailed off into the possible, awful injuries Malfoy may have obtained over the summer holidays. Truth be told, he too had been surprised when Malfoy’s name had not been on the Slytherin’s Quidditch team roster. As much as Harry was thankful that the blond was no longer going to play against him, a little bit of Harry was disconcerted with the sudden change in normality. It had always been the same way, he and Malfoy, on the pitch, racing against one another…

“Merlin could you _imagine_!” Ron’s gleeful laugh broke Harry’s thoughts and he looked over at his friend, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow.

“No more coffee for you, mate,” Harry stated, reaching over for a piece of toast as Ron grinned.

“Oh good, here comes Professor McGonagall with our timetables.” Hermione peered expectantly at the approaching teacher, accepting her timetable excitedly and immediately scanning the contents.

Taking his from the Professor, Harry glanced down at the weekly schedule, pleased when he saw a few empty spots where his free periods were located.

“Aw, _yes_ , sleep in on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Ron said excitedly. “How about you, mate?”

“Same,” Harry replied. “That must be when Divination would have been held if we’d kept it.”

Ron snorted. “Not bloody likely.” He peered over the table. “How about you, Mione?”

“That’s when I have Ancient Runes,” the female replied. “Oh, but I do get Wednesday and Friday afternoons off.”

The two boys glanced down.

“Same,” they said in unison.

“Must have been Care of Magical Creatures,” Hermione mused. “Wonderful, extra study time!”

Ron groaned, folding his timetable and shoving it into the pocket of his robe. “This year is going to be _hell_.”

* * *

 

“Are you sure you will be alright?”

Draco Malfoy’s eyes briefly closed in annoyance. “Yes, Pansy,” he replied, voice clipped. “For the tenth time I have everything covered.”

“The charms have worked then?” the female asked.

“Of course they have. Honestly, do you doubt me _that_ much?” The blond frowned, turning his gaze to the female sitting on the edge of his bed.

Pansy exhaled a long pacifying breath. “You know I don’t,” she replied, voice softer. “This year is going to be bad enough without… well… without this.”

Draco’s lip curled, eyes flashing. “Sorry to be such an inconvenience,” he snarled.

Pansy’s nose crinkled. “That is not what I meant and you know it,” she snapped in reply. “You’re my best friend, Draco, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Draco drew in a breath, eyes closing momentarily. “I know,” he said, forcing himself to calm. “I know…”

Pansy studied her friend’s pale face, biting her lip. “Are you alright for—do you need…?” she began, hand hovering over her left wrist.

Smiling slightly, Draco shook his head. “No, I’m alright, Pansy, thank you.” Steeling himself, he brushed down his school robes one last time. “Come on, let’s go.”

* * *

“Monday morning with the Slytherins, can it get anyone worse?” Ron moaned, leaning his forehead against the cool bricks of the dungeons. “I am so sick of starting our weeks down here in this hell hole.”

“Think of it this way, we get it over and done with quickly,” Hermione replied.

“But, Hermione, we still have _two_ more lessons throughout the week.”

“Fine, mope. I was just trying to improve your mood,” the brunette replied with a snort, hitching her bag further up her shoulder. Beside her, Harry was leaning against the brick wall, his gaze drawn down the dark corridor to his other classmates. Familiar faces littered the line of students, and yet there was one face in particular which stood out.

Draco Malfoy stood beside Pansy Parkinson, his blond hair shining even in the gloom on the dungeons. The male’s grey eyes were constantly scanning the other students in an almost calculating and shrewd manner. Harry didn’t remember the Slytherin being so… cautiously observant before. Despite the caginess, Harry couldn’t help but appreciate the way Malfoy appeared. His skin, which had always been pale, was even more so, his eyes glinting a sheen of silver whenever his gaze moved.

He looked strangely beautiful.

Harry blinked suddenly. _Beautiful…? Malfoy…? Get a grip, Harry._

The door to the classroom finally opened, and the students began to file inside. Harry found himself hanging back, his eyes still on Malfoy as he drew closer. The brunet couldn’t help but frown faintly. There was something different about Malfoy, and yet he was unable to put his finger on it. Malfoy moved much fluidly then before; his posture seemed to exude a strength Harry did not remember. He was definitely not the same person the brunet had known since First Year. Harry turned to Ron.

“Does Malfoy look different to you?” he found himself asking, keeping his voice low.

“What?” Ron replied, looking over. His nose crinkled. “Nope, looks to be the same stuck up ponce as usual.”

“He doesn’t look, I dunno, different to you at all?”

Ron glanced at his friend, eyebrows raised. “I don’t know what to tell you, mate. Malfoy looks the same to me as he’s always looked. Like a bloody git,” he added with a grin. “Come on, let’s get this lesson over with.”

As Harry followed the red-head, his gaze was drawn once more to the Slytherin who was crossing the dungeon to his usual seat with Parkinson. Malfoy sat down gracefully beside her, removed his textbook, parchment, and ink, before leaning back in his chair, his arms folded in a casual manner.

“Um, mate, you going to sit down any time soon?”

The brunet blinked, looking down at Ron and Hermione who were staring at him. Hermione was gazing at him with a small knowing smile. Ron on the other hand, stared at him obliviously.

“Just trying to prolong the inevitable,” Harry replied with a small grin, dropping into his seat beside him.

 

 

“Potter keeps staring at me,” Draco growled softly. “Do you suspect Granger told him?”

Glancing at the male sitting beside her, Pansy shook her head. “I don’t believe so. She gave us her word that she would not tell a soul. If anything, we can trust in her word as a Gryffindor at any rate.”

“Then why the fuck does Potter keep staring at me?”

“Perhaps he’s noticed that you look different,” Pansy offered, laying her quill delicately beside her ink pot. “You may not have changed much but the differences are still there. Considering you’ve been in each other’s faces since First Year, I’m honestly not surprised that he’s picked up on the changes.”

The blond’s eyebrows pulled down into a frustrated frown. “Why on earth would Potter of all people be the one who notices I’ve changed? Our relationship doesn’t exactly extend passed the occasional insult.”

Pansy snorted, glancing at her friend in amusement. “For a Slytherin, Draco, you’re blissfully ignorant at times.”

 

 

Hermione Granger couldn’t help the smile that curled at her lips as she watched her friend finally take a seat at their table. She had always suspected the infatuation Harry had had with Malfoy, but to actually see him noticing the subtle changes that hardly anyone else could was amusing to say the least.

The bushy-haired brunette had been shocked to receive an intense letter during the holidays. The contents of said letter was nothing compared to the surprise she had felt at the sight of the sender, however. One Pansy Parkinson, someone who had never failed to tell Hermione exactly what she thought of her, had written to her asking for the Gryffindor’s help. After the first few lines had been filled with an elaborate apology, the Slytherin had described a series of events that, even now, still had Hermione’s head in a whirl. Parkinson had admitted that she knew Hermione would be the best person to help them, but understood if the Gryffindor was apprehensive to do so.

Hermione had agreed, and given her word not to tell another soul.

Ever since, she, Parkinson, and Malfoy had been exchanging letters filled with information. Hermione had done her best to try and research as much as possible in order to make Malfoy’s transition easier. Despite knowing for many weeks about this unexpected occurrence however, Hermione still found it hard to believe something like this had happened.

“What do you think, Hermione?”

“What?” She pivoted in her chair to find Ron gazing at her.

“Harry and I were thinking of see Hagrid during lunch,” he repeated.

“You guys go, there’s something I need to do in the library,” Hermione replied, opening her textbook.

Ron snorted. “I don’t know why you just don’t live there to be honest.”

“Oh, shut up, Ronald.”

* * *

“Thank you for coming, Granger,” Pansy greeted, gesturing to the chair opposite her.

Hermione inclined her head, taking the chair and settling herself at the table hidden away in the shadows. She looked at the blond sitting beside Parkinson. “How’re you settling in?” she asked.

He shrugged disdainfully in reply. “As well as you can expect,” he replied with a sneer.

“The charms I found worked then?” Hermione continued, pointedly ignoring Malfoy’s attitude.

“Obviously.”

Rolling her eyes, Pansy smacked Malfoy on the arm. “Don’t mind him, Granger. Draco’s pissy because Potter won’t stop staring at him.”

“Hmm, yes I noticed that as well.” Hermione frowned, tapping a finger against her lips.

“Draco doesn’t know what to do with all this attention, especially from _Potter_.”

“For fucks sake, Pansy—”

“Keep your voice down, Draco,” Pansy interrupted with a smirk. “You wouldn’t want anyone finding out now, would you?”

The blond’s upper lip curled into a silent snarl but he said nothing. Hermione couldn’t help but stare. As much as she had accepted the story she had been told, it was another to see the proof.

“Put those away,” Pansy said, her smirk turning into a grin. Hermione could tell she was enjoying teasing her friend. “You might frighten Granger away, _then_ what will you do?”

“Thankfully,” the female Gryffindor replied, lifting her bag onto the table, “it takes a little more than a vampiric Draco Malfoy to frighten me.” Reaching inside, Hermione removed three shrunken books, placing them before the pair of Slytherins. With a quick glance to make sure they were still alone, Hermione tapped each hardcover with her wand and returned the books to their original size. “These are the most reputable texts I could find. Unfortunately, there is a lot of hearsay when it comes to vampire lore since vampires do not tend to associate with anyone other than their own kind. Many of the books I researched were based on fiction, so don’t be surprised if you experience things that aren’t mentioned and vice-versa. This one—” she tapped the middle text, “is probably the best for you. It’s written by a wizard who was turned like you were. That was difficult to come by so _don’t lose it_.”

“I will try my hardest,” Malfoy drawled.

Hermione glared at him. “You wanted my help and I am giving it. Some respect in return would be nice, Malfoy.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t jump for joy, Granger. I didn’t, after all, exactly _plan_ on becoming a vampire,” the blond snapped viciously.

Hermione stared at him sardonically. “Oh _really_? And here I thought it was your aspiration in life.”

Draco’s jaw clenched and he sat back in his chair. Controlling his emotions had been much harder since his change—he found himself reacting fervently and much more abruptly than when he had been human. Hermione gazed at him knowingly, her eyes unnervingly full of understanding.

“Here,” she said, voice gentler as she pushed them towards him. “Take them and read them. I’ve read them cover to cover several times now so if there’s anything that confuses you, please ask me… I will help you.”

The blond turned a look of astonishment in her direction, disbelief etched on his smooth, pale face. Hermione leant back in her chair, a soft sigh falling from her lips.

“You might not consider us to be friends, Malfoy, but not even I wish this upon you,” she said, speaking softly. “You were ripped from your right to live life as a regular wizard; forced into becoming a dark creature without your consent— _no one_ deserves that. Therefore, I will do whatever I can to make this easier for you.”

Malfoy’s gaze fell away from hers. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly. He pulled out his wand and tapped each of the textbooks once more, shrinking them before placing them inside his bag.

“You’re damned lucky Granger is as caring as she is,” Pansy commented.

The Gryffindor smirked. “Caring has nothing to do with it.”

Snorting elegantly, Draco stood, lifting his bag onto his shoulder. “If you two will excuse me, I have some charms to recast before class.”

“Don’t forget your manners, Draco.”

The blond rolled his silver eyes. “I believe I was just about to thank Granger for her help.” Draco inclined his head to the Gryffindor. “Thank you, really. I appreciate your help and your finesse during this… situation.”

Unable to help herself, Hermione smiled. “You’re welcome, Malfoy.” Her smile widened. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity of having you in my debt now, could I?”

“How on earth were you sorted into Gryffindor, Granger?” the female Slytherin commented, slightly impressed.

“My poor Gryffindor heart was too nice for the snake den.”

“Fair enough.”

Draco snorted and left the two females, shaking his head in mild disgust. _Women_ … he thought sourly, rounding the corner of the bookshelf. Distracted as he was, Malfoy wasn’t aware of anyone in his path until he walked straight into another figure.

“Watch where you’re going, Potter _,_ ” Malfoy growled, stepping away from the male immediately.

“I wasn’t the one _moving_ , Malfoy,” Potter snapped back in reply. “Oh but that’s right, _nothing_ is ever your fault now is it?”

Draco leaned closer, eyes alight with fury. “ _Listen_ , Potter—” His voice suddenly faltered, eyes widening slightly as the brunet’s scent caressed his nose. He pulled back immediately, staring in shock at the male standing before him.

“Well?” Potter said irritably, green eyes bright with anger.

“Forget it,” Draco retorted, brushing passed him and eyes set determinedly on the view of the corridor he could see through the open library doors. His heart was thundering in his chest, throat suddenly so parched it ached. Draco felt he could had drained all the water in the lake and it would still not be enough to quench the unexpected thirst his body craved.

_What on earth just happened…?_

Once he’d put enough distance between himself and Potter, Draco slipped out of sight down a deserted row of book shelves. He leant against one as he caught his breath, his mind a whirlwind.

_I only fed from Pansy the other day… I shouldn’t need to feed for another week…_

Draco swallowed convulsively, his hand trembling as he brought it up to run his fingers through his hair. He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tried to calm himself. After a few moments, Draco felt his heart settle, his breaths no longer panted. The thirst, which only moments before had been almost uncontrollable, had ebbed to a faint echo.

It was unbelievable. He’d been fine at home, he’d been fine in the Slytherin common. He’d had no trouble going to class or walking through the corridors filled with students. Why then, of all the people in the entire school, was it Harry Fucking _Potter_ that affected him so severely?

Draco swallowed again as the thirst randomly spiked once more.

_Merlin, I can barely think about Potter without my body going mad…_

Forcing every single emotion that flared at the mere thought of the bespectacled Gryffindor back down where they belonged, Draco straightened, a sense of determination overcoming him. He was stronger than this. He may not have been given the choice in his change but _he_ would be the one to control it from now on.

He glanced at his watch. Still half an hour before his next class.

Draco thought of the textbooks hidden away in his bag.

He had some reading to do.

* * *

“Harry?”

The brunet looked up.

Hermione frowned. “Are you alright?”

Harry nodded, offering a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine—was just looking for you.” He looked over his shoulder, unable to stop himself from speculating about Malfoy’s abrupt departure. He frowned as he turned back to his friend who was watching his curiously.

“Did something happen?” she asked.

“Nothing new, I assure you,” Harry said then, pushing the thoughts of Malfoy away. “You done here in the library? Want to get some lunch before class?”

“Sounds good,” Hermione replied. “How was Hagrid’s?”

* * *

“Where have you been?” Pansy frowned, finally catching up with her best friend outside the History of Magic classroom.

“Reading,” the blond replied. “The textbooks Granger found have been most… illuminating.”

“In good ways I hope?” the shorter Slytherin asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Somewhat.”

“Well good, hopefully they’ll provide the answers we’re after.” Pansy flicked her hand in the direction of the classroom. “You can fill me in on what you’ve read so far before Binns arrives.”

“If half of what the textbooks describe is true, my life is going to become rather interesting,” Draco commented wryly, an ironic smile quirking his lips as he followed his best friend into the classroom.

“How so?” Pansy asked, directing them to their usual desk. As much as Draco would have preferred to remain out of the direct eyesight of his classmates, he knew that maintaining appearances was the best way to sustain normality. After all, hiding in plain sight proved to be much more effective at times—people had no reason to suspect anything different.

“I’ll save those details for later,” Draco replied, dropping his books onto the desk. “In a less conspicuous atmosphere.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Shut up, Pansy,” Draco said with no heat. He ignored the grin his best friend sent him as he removed parchment and ink from his bag and arranged them on the desk.

It was with almost uncanny awareness that the blond knew the exact moment Potter walked into the room. He stiffened, forcing himself to not look at the dark-haired Gryffindor despite how much his body suddenly began to hum, urging him to be near Potter. He did not know why it was he was so tuned into Potter’s presence but it needed to stop.

“No let’s sit over near the window,” came Granger’s voice. “It’s a bit stuffy in here and I could use the fresh air.”

Despite not watching the trio make their way across the classroom, Draco could envision every motion Potter would have made in his mind’s eye: the swish of robes, the easy way the brunet would have grinned at the Weasel, the haphazard slump as Potter fell into his seat with as much enthusiasm as a dead tree branch.

Fuck.

Drawing a silent but extremely deep breath, Draco compelled his body to relax. More and more students were filing into the room—it’d do no good for him to suddenly reveal to them all exactly what had happened to him over the summer holidays.

“Two galleons that half the class is asleep in the first twenty minutes,” Pansy commented then, her eyes on the ghostly figure of their teacher as he swept into the room via the wall.

Jumping on the much needed distraction, the blond snorted. “Please, Pansy, that’s much too easy. Make it ten galleons and within the first five minutes and you’re on.”

 

 

Draco found that if he focused his entire attention on Professor Binns’ monotone drawl, the compulsion to think about Potter was shoved to a bare minimum. Much to his satisfaction, Draco’s prediction of the class being asleep in the first five minutes proved to be typically true and, after a very filthy glare from Pansy, the female had agreed to pay up once they returned to the Slytherin common room.

All in all, Draco was feeling rather normal, all things considered. That was, however, until the wind began to pick up outside, bursts of fresh air blowing into the classroom. As the breeze blew through the open window, the blond inhaled through his nose, eyes closing as Potter’s scent suddenly enveloped every inch of him.

_What I wouldn’t give to taste him…_

Draco shook himself. What was he _thinking…?_

Focusing on his determination to squash the longing for Potter’s blood, it took Draco a moment to realise that his mouth was beginning to feel rather… crowded. A shot of alarm stabbed into his chest. Here he was, in the middle of History of Magic, and his fangs had _elongated_. If he even opened his mouth the tiniest millimetre it would be painfully obviously to everyone what he was.

 _Oh fuck_.

No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to stop the way his body was responding to the scent of Potter. He was currently surrounded by his entire class. This fact alone should have been enough to stem the desires now growing with the blond. Instead, Draco was so _very close_ to disregarding all rational thought and claiming the delectable brunet as his own in front despite the audience they would receive.

Swallowing thickly, his hand gripped his quill so tightly his arm began to tremble.

“Draco?” Pansy murmured as softly as she could. “What’s wrong?”

He sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily. “Nothing,” he uttered after a moment, lips barely moving.

The look he received in return told Draco that Pansy did not buy his response in the least. Thankfully she seemed to sense his reluctance to speak about it in the middle of class and did not press further.

_How on earth am I going to explain this to Pansy…? And that the fuck does it even mean?! Why is it, out of the entire school, that Potter make me feel the most inhuman…?_

Frustration crashed over him. He had been _so good_ … so _careful_ … and with one brief inhalation, Potter’s scent had broken through every wall Draco had constructed and brought the snarling beast screaming to the surface.

Draco just prayed he had enough strength to survive the remaining thirty minutes of class.

 

 

Draco was the first out of the classroom once Binns had dismissed them. He was halfway down the corridor before he allowed himself to slow, breathing in the clean, Potter-free air as he tried to regain some form of normality back.

Then there was Pansy, right on his heels and with a look of such determination and eerie understanding that Draco barely had time to time to construct how he was going to explain this sudden issue to his best friend before she was steering him into a deserted classroom, closing the door behind her.

“What’s the problem?” Pansy asked immediately, eyes bright with concern as she stared at her friend.

Draco swallowed, his jaw clenching. “Potter,” he bit out.

The brunette frowned. “What about him?” Shock suddenly passed over her features. “Does he know?” she gasped.

Draco shook his head, hands clenching by his sides.

Pansy gazed at him in confusion, the shock fading. “Then what…?” she began.

“It’s his _scent_ ,” the blond suddenly snarled. “It’s driving me insane.”

“In what way?”

“In _every way_.” The Slytherin began pacing the room, drawing in deep breaths in order to calm himself. Pansy watched him with widening eyes. Since his change, she had never seen Draco so… unsettled. It was the most vampiric he had ever appeared.

“Draco,” she began carefully, keeping her tone even, “when did you first notice this reaction to Potter?”

“Library,” he replied shortly.

“Was that the first time you had been close to him this year?”

Draco turned sharply to stare at the female who was regarding his carefully. “What are you on about?” he replied with a sneer.

Pansy kept her tone steady. “His scent, Draco,” she explained, “was that the first time you had smelt it?” She watched, unsurprised, as Draco nodded stiffly. “And you reacted immediately to it?”

Another stiff nod.

“In what way, exactly?”

Draco glared at the floor. “I want— _wanted_ —to bite him. He—” The blond winced, feeling the burn in his throat once more. “I find myself craving him.”

Pansy stared. “But you only fed the other day,” she stated.

“I am aware of that,” Draco snapped. “I am as confused as I’m sure _you_ are, Pansy. What I want to know is _why._ Why the fuck does Potter make me… make me _so_ —”

“Calm down,” Pansy interrupted carefully. “It’s alright.” With a sigh she leant against the wooden door, gazing at him thoughtfully. “Look, until we figure out why Potter makes you feel this way, we’re just going to have to stay away from him.”

A frustrated growl fell from Draco’s lips. “And how do you propose I do that, Pansy? We share half of his classes.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Draco, you need to control yourself,” Pansy said sternly, pinning him with a glare. “We’re going to work this out but you _need_ to stop being such a dick. It wouldn’t go over well for you to go on a vampiric rampage now, would it?”

The blond laughed mockingly. “Might make me feel better.”

“Be _serious_ , Draco,” Pansy scolded. “This is new and rather frightening. Neither of us understand fully how your new body functions—you’ll have to forgive me if I want to practice a little caution.”

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes. “What do you propose we do then?” he asked instead, unable to fully hide the snark from his tone.

“Thankfully, we do not share our next class with the Golden Boy. After Charms, I suggest that you go straight to the common room. At least the Snake Pit will be the last place Potter should be. I’ll go find Granger after dinner,” Pansy offered. “Alright?”

Feeling somewhat drained, Draco exhaled. “Alright.”

* * *

“Granger, may I have a word?” Parkinson asked, catching up to the trio before they started up the stairs.

Harry and Ron both stared obtusely at the Slytherin. She quirked an eyebrow as she spared them a quick glance.

“Go on ahead, you guys,” Hermione said, noting the hint of desperation in Parkinson’s voice. “I’ll catch up with you.”

“Er… alright,” Harry replied, glancing at Ron and frowning faintly. The two of them left the females all the same, Harry unable to stop himself from glancing back, rather dumbfounded at the calm way Hermione seemed to receive the other female.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked as soon as they were alone.

“We’ve hit a little snag,” the Slytherin replied. “Draco’s discovered he becomes rather irrational whenever he gets too close to Potter.”

Hermione frowned. “Irrational how?”

“In the sense that he wants to bleed Potter dry?” Parkinson replied wryly. “For some reason the Golden Boy appears to draw out the worst in Draco and until we figure it out, we need you to keep Potter as far away from him as you can.”

A contemplative expression passed over Hermione’s face. Parkinson raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t seem terribly surprised about this news, Granger.”

“Because I’m not,” Hermione replied simply. “I’ve always found the relationship between Harry and Malfoy to be interesting… truthfully I was expecting something like this to happen.”

Parkinson frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Vampires have unusual relationships with their… mates,” Hermione said. “Generally, they are able to feed from various humans at their leisure. Malfoy feeds from you, doesn’t he?”

Pansy was nodding. “Yes, Draco drinks from me whenever he needs it but he’s not my mate.”

“No, you’re not,” the Gryffindor agreed. “Both of you would know if you were.”

Parkinson frowned. “Then what does this have to do with Potter?”

“From what you have explained to me, Pansy, isn’t it obvious?” Hermione frowned at the Slytherin. “Draco craves Harry in a way he doesn’t crave anyone else—what does that tell you?”

“That Potter just happens to be particularly delicious to vampires?”

Smiling ironically, Hermione allowed herself a brief chuckle. “I doubt any other vampires would even get the chance to come within ten feet of Harry if Malfoy is reacting the way you’re describing.” The bushy-haired female shook her head. “No, Pansy, Harry isn’t some fancy vampire cuisine.”

“Then why—”

“Because it appears Harry is Draco’s blood-mate.”

Parkinson blinked. “His _what?_ ”

“Blood. Mate.” Hermione stated slowly. “A vampire’s blood-mate is a single being they are chemically and physically attracted to. Should Draco ever initiate the bond with Harry, he will never be able to feed from another being.”

“Why?” Pansy frowned.

“Because a blood-mate becomes the vampire’s life force; their bond is tremendously powerful. Once the connection is made, a vampire will only ever crave their mate.”

“What if Potter has no interest in the bond?”

“Then Malfoy will have to be extremely careful. The rejection of a mate is rare but it does happen. Should Malfoy not initiate the bond, the two of them will be fine. That is, if Malfoy can resist Harry long enough until they are far apart that the cravings fade. However.” Hermione paused then, gazing at Parkinson carefully. “If Malfoy acts on impulse, ingests Harry’s blood and Harry rejects him… then Malfoy will no longer be able to take from another’s vein. Ever.”

Pansy felt her face pale. “And how long can a vampire go without blood?”

Hermione levelled a knowing look at the female. Parkinson cursed.

“Alright, keep a tight leash on Draco, got it.” Shaking her head, Pansy allowed her gaze to become shrewd as she stared at the bushy-haired female once more. “I can comprehend that you are not overly surprised by this development… but really, Granger, you can’t tell me you were _honestly_ suspecting that this was going to happen.”

Hermione snorted. “Even you can’t deny the way Malfoy and Harry were always in each other’s face. From day one those two have been dancing around each other in a shocking display of confused hormones. There is a fine line between love and hate and I believe those two have crossed that line several times over.” She quirked her head, an ironic smile twisting at her lips. “Come now, Pansy, don’t tell me Malfoy wasn’t completely obsessed with Harry before this all happened.”

The Slytherin rolled her eyes but nodded all the same.

“Harry too,” Hermione replied. “Why else do you think he’s noticed the changes Draco has undergone? They’re subtle but they’re still there and out of everyone in this entire school, it’s my oblivious best friend who noticed them immediately.”

“So much for Gryffindor naivety.”

Hermione hummed in agreement. “In Harry’s case, anything Malfoy-related is definitely worth the note taking.” She smirked at the Slytherin. “This is going to be a _very_ interesting year.”


	2. Chapter 2

“What did Parkinson want?”

Hermione blinked in surprise when she exited the portrait hole, coming face to face with both Ron and Harry who had evidently been waiting for her.

“Excuse me?” she replied, eyebrows raised.

“Parkinson,” Ron repeated. “What did she want?”

“Oh.” Hermione started over to one of the free desks by the window, the boys following closely behind. “Nothing exciting I assure you. Just about an assignment for Ancient Runes that she was discussing with Professor Babbling.”

“I didn’t realise you and her were on… speaking terms,” Harry commented.

The brunette shrugged casually. “We decided to grow up,” she replied. “Parkinson apologised at the end of last year and asked if we could start fresh. I decided to put caution to the wind and give it a go. So far, she’s been true to her word and rather civil—it’s rather refreshing.”

Harry stared at his best friend. Then he stared at Ron who was gazing at Hermione in the same shocked way.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Harry found himself asking.

Hermione lowered her bag onto the desktop, flipped it open and removed some books. “Didn’t realise it was worth telling,” she said, smiling at the two. “Will you guys relax? I honestly didn’t bother telling you guys because I wasn’t sure myself whether or not she’d keep her word about moving on. It’s one thing to have hopes about being civil with a once enemy but it’s another to be blindsided by one.” She sat herself down into a chair and began flicking through her History of Magic textbook. “You guys will have to get over it sooner or later otherwise you’re going to be shocked every time she tries to have a word with me.”

Harry raised his hands. “Hey, as long as she plays nice, I don’t have a problem,” he said honestly. He looked at Ron who shrugged.

“Yeah, same,” he agreed. “But you have to let us know the _instant_ she turns on you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I doubt that will ever be the case but fine. You guys will be the first to know if Parkinson turns out to be a lying fiend.”

Grinning, Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Well at least that’s all settled. Come on, mate, want a game of chess?”

“Yeah, alright. Go set up and I’ll be over in a minute.”

Hermione glanced up at her friend, surprised to see him gazing at her inquisitively. She frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Harry rubbed his arm. “It’s just… what with you and Parkinson becoming tentative friends and all… I was wondering if you knew what was up with Malfoy?”

Hermione felt her frown deepen, genuine curiosity sweeping through her. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“It’s just—” Harry flopped down into the spare chair beside her. “There’s something different about Malfoy but I can’t work out what it is. Since you’ll be hanging around Parkinson I was kind of hoping that you’d notice as well and be able to work it out.”

Hermione couldn’t help but stare at the brunet in mild surprise. “Harry,” she began, “when are you going to let this infatuation with Malfoy go?”

Harry blushed, glancing away from her as he began to fiddle with the sleeve of his robe. “It’s _not_ an infatuation,” he grumbled. “I just know there’s something different. Call it a hunch.”

“A hunch.”

“Gut feeling or whatever.” Harry turned earnest eyes to the female. “Plus… I don’t want you getting hurt if it turns out Malfoy is—well— _dangerous_.”

_Oh, Harry… you have no idea…_

Smiling gently, Hermione decided to humour her best friend. “Alright, I’ll keep an eye on Malfoy,” she said finally, turning her attention back to her textbook. “But in all honesty you don’t need to worry.”

“Until he gives me a reason not to, I’ll always worry,” Harry mumbled in reply, finally getting to his feet to go join Ron.

* * *

 

“Where’s Malfoy?” Hermione asked, greeting Parkinson outside their Ancient Runes classroom.

“Applying his charms,” the dark-haired Slytherin murmured softly in reply, sweeping a casual glance up and down the corridor. So far, she and the Gryffindor were the only ones who had arrived. “I have yet to tell him about our conversation yesterday. I don’t think mentioning Potter’s name and the possibility of him being Draco’s ‘blood-mate’ would go down rather well, do you?”

Hermione snorted. “No, I can’t imagine it would at the moment.”

“In any case, I plan on explaining everything to him should the time come. If we can maintain a respectable distance from Potter while keeping Draco relatively calm, I don’t see why I need to worry him about it.”

“Fair enough,” the Gryffindor replied. “I’ll do my best to keep Harry away but I have to be honest—he’s rather obsessed with finding out what’s different about Malfoy.”

Parkinson rolled her eyes. “Of _course_ he is,” she remarked. “Typical.”

Gradually, more students trudged to class. The class number was only small as only a few students had elected to continue Ancient Runes for their NEWTs. This made it painfully obvious that when the door finally opened ready to admit them, Malfoy still hadn’t arrived.

“Where the hell is he?” Pansy growled, looking up and down the corridor for the twelfth time. “If he didn’t want to come to class he could have just said so.”

Hermione frowned in concern, biting her lip thoughtfully.

“Where’s Potter this morning?” Parkinson asked then, echoing the Gryffindor’s thoughts.

“Should be with Ron somewhere—they both have frees,” Hermione replied. “I can’t imagine they’d be anywhere near Malfoy though.”

“With Draco’s luck lately I wouldn’t be so sure,” Pansy said wryly. She glanced at her watch with a frustrated sigh. “I better go find him… just in case.”

Hermione stared knowingly at the Slytherin. “Go. I’ll explain to Professor Babbling that Malfoy wasn’t feeling well and you took him to the Hospital Wing.”

“Thanks, Granger, you’re a gem.”

* * *

 

The shimmer from his last charm settled smoothly over his skin, the evidence of the spell disappearing as it made contact. Satisfied that he would not receive third degree burns that morning, Draco picked up his bag, double checked his appearance in the mirror one last time, and left his room.

He knew he was cutting it close; Pansy was going to scold him for being late to class no doubt. Truthfully, Draco couldn’t be arsed to care. He’d woken rather… abruptly that morning, from a sleep that had been minimal. Since his change, Draco had not been required to rest as often as his wizard body had once needed. The stress brought on by Potter’s presence yesterday however was enough for an exhausted Slytherin to retire to bed. What little sleep he managed to achieve had been plagued with vivid dreams of the brunet, many of which involved Draco indulging in the very strong urge to bite him. Needless to say when Draco woke that morning it was to the undying thirst he had hoped would have diminished. He’d been so sure that keeping his distance from Potter would work… until the bloody asshole had decided to raid his dreams.

_Thank you, universe._

His footsteps barely made a sound as he stepped down the dark corridors of the dungeons. The shadows were a welcome refuge from the usual bright sunlit hallways of the rest of the castle. Despite the charms he applied, Draco still felt more secure hiding away in the darkness where it was quiet, cool, and had a severe lack of rambunctious Gryffindorks.

Draco found himself smiling ironically as he entered the Entrance Hall. It lasted a mere moment before a barked laugh caught his attention and looked up, coming to an immediate halt. Potter was coming down the stairs, grinning brightly at the Weasel beside him who was roaring with laughter. Despite the echoing belly-laughs, Draco could not take his eyes off the smiling raven-haired Gryffindor. There was no usual rush of contempt that the blond was used to whenever he saw the Golden Boy. Instead, Draco actually felt compelled to _talk_ to him. In a _nice way_.

The Slytherin choked back a derisive laugh. This was all he needed this morning.

“What the fuck’s _your_ problem, Malfoy?”

Draco groaned. Fantastic.

“Don’t like the sound of happiness? I can’t imagine a Death Eater like you _would_.”

Draco felt his body go still.

Unexpected, _burning,_ hatred rose within Draco and he turned a ferocious look to the boorish red-head. It took every ounce of his self-control not to bare his fangs in a snarl.

“How very original of you, Weasley,” he spat. “ _My_ father is a known Death Eater so _therefore_ I must be on as well. Makes _tremendous_ sense.”

Weasley scoffed. “Why deny what everyone already knows, Malfoy?” he retorted venomously. “I bet you couldn’t _wait_ to take the Dark Mark. _Begged_ You-Know-Who—”

“Ron.” Potter suddenly cut the other Gryffindor off, much to Draco’s surprise.

“What?” the Weasel whined.

“Just… enough, alright?”

“Oh please, Potter, let me him finish,” Draco growled with barely contained fury. “Weasley needs to get off some way or another. Obviously you don’t put out enough.”

The brunet simply rolled his eyes in response but Weasley’s face went a wonderful shade of purple. A sadistic smile appeared on Draco’s face. Anger was good. He understood anger.

“I seem to have touched a nerve,” the blond hissed gleefully. “Tell me, Potter, how long have you and the Weasel been an item?”

“Really, Malfoy?” Potter replied, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow as his best friend spluttered in indignation beside him. “Aren’t we a little old for homophobic teasing?” Potter’s unnaturally green eyes were staring right at Draco, and he felt suddenly exposed. The anger coursing through him rapidly dissipated, only to be replaced with the familiar bone-chilling desire to press Potter up against a wall and bite him.

Among other things.

“Fuck off, Potter,” Draco snarled instead, his upper jaw beginning to throb.

Potter’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise. Beside him, a grin was beginning to spread across Weasley’s face.

“I guess _you’ve_ touched a nerve now, Harry,” Weasley said gleefully.

Potter was frowning at Draco, calculations a faint shadow in his eyes. Draco’s gaze had zeroed in on the gentle pulse in Potter’s neck, the familiar burn growing in his throat. Every inkling, every thought Draco had, was to bite the Gryffindor, to sink his fangs into that tantalising skin and claim Potter as his own—

Draco felt bile rise in his throat as his fangs began to lengthen. He had to get away— _far_ away.

He could feel himself losing control.

Without another word, the blond turned on his heel and marched back down to the dungeons, trying to ignore the pleased insults that were currently spewing from the Weasel’s mouth at his retreat.

Draco’s blood was humming unsettlingly in his veins; he had been too close. Why on earth did he have to antagonise? He knew what Potter’s presence did to him…

The blond growled in frustration at his own idiocy.

_He could have ruined everything._

* * *

 

Pansy was a woman on a mission.

She knew she was overreacting but _fuck_ , considering the shit her best friend had put her through these past few months it was more than expected to be as worried as she was. Especially since this entire situation with _Potter_. Draco’s luck hadn’t exactly been the best recently and Merlin knew it would be typical for him to have the standard run-in with the Golden Boy.

The female practically snarled the password to enter the Slytherin common room, starting for the Boy’s dormitory immediately. She wasn’t entirely sure that this was where Draco would have been but at least it was a start. In any case, if the blond had indeed come across Potter that morning, this was the logical place for him to retreat to.

Or so she hoped.

Reaching her best friend’s door, Pansy pushed the door open, her eyes falling onto a familiar blond head. Relief coursed through her as she shut the door, leaning against the wood as she stared through the darkness to the male sitting on the bed.

“Draco?” she began, frowning in concern.

“I’m in trouble, Pansy,” Draco mumbled in reply, keeping his gaze averted from hers. “The compulsion is becoming too strong.”

Pansy frowned as she crossed Draco’s bedroom, coming to sit beside him on the bed. Despite the room being cast in shadow, Draco’s skin seemed to glow, his eyes illuminated against the darkness as he turned to face her. Alarmed by the desperation on the blond’s face, Pansy broke the silence, suddenly frightened of her best friend’s answer.

“Tell me what happened,” she murmured. “Was it Potter?”

“When has it not been Potter,” Draco replied bitterly, looking down at his hands as they lay haphazardly in his lap.

“You didn’t…?”

“No.”

Pansy’s relief somewhat irritated Draco; as if she thought so little of his self-control.

“I don’t understand,” he continued, face contorting with frustration. “I have had no issue until now… until _Potter_ —”

“Draco,” Pansy interrupted, “have you considered the reason at all as to _why_ you’re reacting like this to Potter?”

The blond lifted his head, frowning at her. “ _Is_ there are specific reason? There wasn’t exactly a chapter dedicated to particularly enticing humans.”

“But you _are_ aware of vampires bonding with humans, yes?”

“I believe it was mentioned once or twice in the texts Granger provided.”

Pansy stared earnestly at the blond. “Draco, don’t you see? Potter must be your blood-mate.”

Draco instantly recoiled, lip curling. “ _Impossible_ ,” he hissed.

“It makes sense,” Pansy continued with a determined frown. “The way you react to his scent is obvious enough. This is the first stage.” She stared at him empathetically as Draco lowered his face into his hands. “You will need to be careful and decide what you are going to do.”

“What do you mean?” Draco lifted his head to stare at her.

Pansy quirked an eyebrow. “You really need to speak to Granger more often.” She shook her head. “A blood-mate is someone whom vampires make an inseparable bond with. The bond created between the two is extremely powerful… but can also become your greatest weakness. If Potter really is your blood-mate you’re going to have to tread carefully. This compulsion you feel towards Potter is the first stage of bonding—it’s your body responding to his.”

“Why Potter?” The blond moaned. “Why do I not have a choice in who I bond with? If at all?”

“Because it boils down to chemical and physical attraction. Just as many can’t control who they are attracted to or fall in love with, you cannot control who will be your blood-mate. Your mate will provide you with a strength very few will be able to match… if you choose to allow yourself to bond that is.”

Draco scoffed. “And why would I _choose_ Potter?”

“Aside from gaining unquestionable strength, stability, and possible happiness? Hmm, why indeed.”

“But it’s _Potter!_ ”

“Yes, we’ve established that.” Pansy shook her head, gazing at her best friend curiously. “Why does the idea of the Golden Boy being your blood-mate repulse you so much?”

Draco could only stare. _Why_ did _the idea of Potter being his blood-mate repulse him?_

“I realise that the two of you haven’t exactly had the most understanding of friendships—” Pansy paused when the blond snorted, a wry smiling appearing on her lips. “But maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Draco stared at her sardonically. “Pansy, what about this situation could _possibly_ be pleasantly surprising? That Potter and I will just suddenly stop hating one another? That Potter would willingly become my blood donor? I have a feeling he’d rather stake me through the heart.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I feel rather certain about it.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Draco, please be serious.”

“I _am_ being serious, Pansy.” He held her gaze, eyes filling with resignation. “Potter and I _hate_ each other. We have for seven years. Please elaborate on how exactly I can approach the subject? ‘ _Don’t mind me, Potter, but I’m a vampire now and would love to drain you dry_ ’. I bet he’d love that.”

“Stop being such a melodramatic twat,” Pansy snapped. “You honestly have no idea how Potter will react to this. Given by what Granger has told me, I’m not entirely sure that Potter hates you.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ve stopped.”

“Given the change in circumstance… don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

“I can’t imagine Potter welcoming me with open arms,” Draco replied morosely. “Hating each other was what Potter and I did best. It’s a little hard to overcome years of feeling such prominent frustration.”

“I’ll say,” Pansy muttered. “Whatever you decide, promise me you’ll think about this carefully. You have two options available: either you accept your attraction to Potter and attempt to win him over, or you stay away from him and continue to drink from me. The latter will probably not be easy since we’ll be in such close proximity to Potter at times but at least you will still maintain a steady blood supply.”

Draco found himself nodding. He knew with complete confidence that staying away from Potter was his best chance at retaining any form of normality. Even if he did decide to give in to his desires, there was no way he could predict whether or not Potter would be a willing recipient.

“For now, I will attempt to stay away from him,” Draco stated, more to himself than Pansy. “I can’t guarantee that Potter won’t tell me to go fuck myself.”

Pansy laughed softly, taking Draco’s hand and squeezing it in reassurance. “If anything, his noble Gryffindor heart won’t let you do that alone…”

“Get your filthy mind out of the gutter, Pansy.”

* * *

 

“I’m telling you, Hermione, there is something seriously up with Malfoy.”

“Harry, I heard you the first twelve times.”

The brunet glared. “Why are you not concerned about this?”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione reached for a sandwich. “Because this isn’t exactly new, Harry. You’re always trying to find something about Malfoy to be suspicious about. Why should this time be any different?”

“Because I _saw_ him, Mione. Ask Ron! He was there.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows and turned her stare to Ron who was staring bemusedly at the magically surmounted grey clouds that hung overhead as he chewed his food. At the sound of his name he looked over blearily.

“Wha…?”

“Tell Hermione about Malfoy this morning,” Harry said persistently.

Ron shrugged. “What about him? He was his normal bigoted self.”

Harry growled in frustration and waved an impatient hand in Ron’s direction. “Obviously you weren’t paying attention,” he said grouchily.

“To what?” Ron frowned. “He insulted us, we insulted him. It was same old, same old.”

“Go figure.” Hermione smiled facetiously. “Now, Harry, why don’t you sit down with ol’Mione and tell me all about this crush you have on Draco Malfoy.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, eyes going wide.

“ _W-What_?” he spluttered.

“You heard me,” Hermione continued reasonably, gesturing across the table towards him.

“Harry doesn’t have a crush on Malfoy,” Ron interjected, snorting at the very idea.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” The female continued to smile at the brunet who was ferociously attempting to stutter excuses. “Generally speaking, most childish quarrels tend to simmer out as you get older and mature. Of course this isn’t the same for everyone, however since Malfoy has yet to go out of his way to shout insults straight to your face, I’d say he’s decided that fighting with you has grown tiresome. Malfoy has kept to himself since we returned and yet _you_ , Harry, keep dragging him back into the ‘playing field’ so to speak. You can’t help but make accusations about how different Malfoy is despite the fact that you’ve barely been within two feet of the man since returning to Hogwarts.” Hermione stared at her friend knowingly. “If it’s not Quidditch you’re talking about it’s usually a certain blond Slytherin.”

Ron was suddenly staring at his best mate uneasily, his mouth slightly agape.

“Don’t tell me you believe this,” Harry said with a snarl, glaring at the red-head.

“Well…” Ron began uneasily, glancing at Hermione who was suddenly looking extremely smug. “You _do_ tend to talk about Malfoy a lot…”

“I don’t believe this!” Harry turned from friend to friend in disbelief. “ _I do not have a crush on Draco Malfoy_.”

Ron held his hands up in surrender, blue eyes kind but extremely doubtful. “I would totally rather you didn’t, mate, you know that,” he began. “He’s such a prissy little shit; how could you _possibly_ like the guy—”

“See?” Harry rounded on Hermione.

“But.”

Harry turned back to Ron. “But?”

Ron glanced at the bushy-haired female once more. “But I dunno… Hermione makes a pretty good point about your obsession with the Ferret.”

Harry groaned, a _thunk_ sounding as his forehead came to rest none-too-gently on the wood of the table. His friends were absolutely delusional… there was _no way_ he could have a crush on Malfoy! Just because he’d noticed a few things about the Slytherin didn’t mean he wanted to kiss the bastard.

He felt a hand pat him kindly on the back.

“If you do decide you like the Ferret, tell me yeah? I’ll need time to adjust.”

“Fuck off, Ron.”

* * *

 

Draco had been successful in avoiding encounters with Potter for an entire week. In his mind, this was the greatest feat he had accomplished in all of his seventeen years. Classes without Potter were evidently the easiest, and it gave the blond the time he needed in order to strengthen his resolve and will power. Classes _with_ Potter however had become a sort of game, wherein both he and Pansy had placed themselves strategically in the best possibly place for limited contact with the Gryffindor. This included avoiding all open windows.

His success was short lived however.

Despite the victory he had had with avoiding Potter in person, it had not prevented his deceptive mind from teasing him viciously with dreams, tantalising visualisations, and pure erotic fallacies.

It was driving Draco into a frenzy.

No matter how often he fed from Pansy, the unquenchable, burning craving to drink from Potter could not be fulfilled. Draco was unsure on how long he would be able to sustain his resolve.

 

“Ready?” Pansy called from the doorway of Draco’s bedroom.

“One moment.”

Draco waved his wand expertly, the last of his charms settling over his skin. His morning ritual had become so standard that he barely gave the charms a second thought as he performed them.

“I’ve already spoken to Granger.” Pansy leant against the doorframe as she spoke. “She told me she was going to try and coerce Potter to sit closer to the front. That way we’ll be able to keep an eye on where he is within the classroom—especially when it’s time to collect potion ingredients.”

Draco nodded his agreement as he grabbed his bag, swinging it onto his shoulder.

“How have the cravings been?”

“ _Cravings_?”

Pansy grinned, stepping out of the way as Draco pulled the door to his bedroom shut.

“What else would you call them?” she asked innocently, falling into step beside him. “So…?”

“They’ve been… fine,” the blond replied evasively.

“Oh, yes?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You know, being honest with yourself is the first step in admitting you have a problem.”

“Shut up, Parkinson.”

It was a short walk from their common room to their classroom. The door was open and students were already inside by the time the two Slytherins arrived. Pansy stepped through the doorway first, gaze falling immediately on the familiar group of Gryffindors.

“Let’s sit here, near the door,” she murmured, noting where the Golden Trio had placed themselves.

Draco followed her to the desk without a word, knowing that although the extra precaution seemed a tad overzealous, he knew it was for the best. He sat, unable to stop himself from staring over to the back of the dark-haired Gryffindor’s head. Potter was currently facing Weasley, making what seemed to be snarky comments about their soon-to-start Potions lesson. The brunet’s profile suddenly lit up, a grin appearing on his face in response to whatever Weasley had said.

Draco felt his hunger surge.

With a silent curse he looked away, grateful for the distraction as Profession Snape stalked into the room. Obsidian eyes swept across the class, lingering for a split second on Draco who met his stare steadily.

“We will be brewing Blood-Replenishing potion today,” Snape announced with a slight sneer. “I daresay there will be very few of you who will succeed. For those of you who are a constant disappointment in this class—” the professor’s eyes shot to Longbottom who trembled, “be aware of step six. Failure to allow this potion to brew for the allocated time before adding the Silverweed Extract will cause _severe_ reactions.” Snape swished his wand, the directions appearing on the board before them. “This potion requires you to brew in a silver cauldron. For those who do not own a silver cauldron, you may retrieve one from the storeroom. Please refrain from the overuse of conversation.”

Speech done, Snape marched to his desk. There was a brief moment of hesitation before students began moving, fetching ingredients and organising themselves into small groups around tables. Draco and Pansy waited until the Golden Trio had gathered their supplies and sat themselves back down at their desk before they headed to the storeroom. Both Draco and Pansy had silver cauldrons of their own so once they had collected the potion ingredients they needed, the two of them returned to their seats and began brewing the potion in solitary silence.

The gentle murmur of voices and the crackle of flames filled the classroom. Draco found it almost effortless to prepare his potion and still pay attention to the room around him. His senses were stronger and more aware than ever, something, since this mess with Potter had begun, he was eternally thankful for. He could hear Potter’s characteristically familiar voice clearer than any of the others and he found his gaze constantly drawn to the Gryffindor who stood across the room.

“Pass us the knife, Mione,” he heard Potter say.

Granger handed over the utensil, and Draco watched as Potter began to cut up the Valerian roots into small enough pieces they would be able to pulverise into a powder. Draco couldn’t help but scrutinise Potter’s movements, noticing that Granger was doing the same. She flinched when the brunet’s hand slipped, the knife skidding off the roots abruptly.

“Harry, be careful. The roots are rather tough and you might slip and cut—”

“Oh, bugger.”

The words barely registered in Draco’s mind as his body suddenly began to hum, his fangs lengthening and his eyes zeroing in on the delectable red liquid now dripping down Potter’s left index finger. A soft growl was emanating from his aching throat and it wasn’t until Pansy had stepped into his path that he realised he was moving. Without thinking, Draco brought up his hands to shove the brunette out of his way, gaze still locked on Potter.

A thin piece of wood was quickly levelled between his eyes and Draco’s instincts abruptly flared, a snarl curling at his lips at the unanticipated threat. He glared threateningly at the female who, despite the fear she felt bubbling in her stomach, held his gaze.

“Sit. Down.” Pansy spoke calmly, wand gripped firmly in her hand. “Or I’ll stun you.”

Everyone ounce of Draco’s being wanted nothing better than to thrust his best friend out of his way and claim the male that was his. He cared not for the room full of students; his craving for Potter outweighed the threat of witnesses. It was the last lingering thread of his humanity that stopped him, and he took a single step back, jaw locking and hands clenched at his side. Pansy kept her wand on him until Draco had slid back into his chair, eyes boring a hole into the desk before him. Mercifully, no one besides Pansy had noticed his abrupt change of character, which had been an added perk of their chosen position within the classroom.

The blond sucked in a shaking breath. If Draco had thought Potter’s natural scent was tantalising, it was _nothing_ compared to the luscious aroma of his blood. Even after Granger had taken Potter’s hand and healed the wound, the mouth-watering fragrance still hung in the air, embedding itself into every fibre of Draco’s being.

 _Mine_ … a voice in Draco’s head growled.

“How’re you doing?”

Pansy’s cautious voice spoke softly from beside him. He could feel her eyes on his face.

“Fine.”

She worried her lip, sharing a brief glance with their teacher whose suspicious gaze was now on the pair.

“Do you want to leave?” Pansy asked.

“No.” Draco shook himself slightly, turning his attention back to his potion. “No, I’ll be fine.” He was thankful when Pansy said nothing further. As much as he would appreciate her care when he had calmed down, at that moment her insistent worry was irritating him. Forcing himself to continue brewing, Draco kept his eyes on his cauldron until it was time to strain and allow the potion to cool. By the time class had ended, Draco felt unnaturally drained, body weary. He remained in his chair as the class began to file out, looking up only once as he sensed Potter getting closer. Silver eyes met with green as Potter passed by, the Gryffindor leaving the classroom with a faint frown.

Determination began to well up within Draco.

The evident pull of his lust for the ebony-haired male was proving too hard to ignore. Instead, it appeared that it was time to stop fighting against the inevitable and accept what his new body desired.

And what he desired more than anything in the entire world was Harry Potter.


	3. Chapter 3

With a frustrated sigh, Harry flopped onto his back, glaring up at the ceiling of his four-poster bed. It was two in the morning and the brunet had yet to fall asleep. A mantra was currently running through his head, peaking his distress and preventing his slumber.

“ _I do not have a crush on Draco Malfoy._ ”

“ _I dunno… Hermione makes a pretty good point about your obsession with the Ferret_.”

“ _If you do decide you like the Ferret, tell me yeah? I’ll need time to adjust_.”

“… _obsession… with the Ferret.”_

“ _I do not have a crush on Draco Malfoy._ ”

Aaanndd repeat.

Pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes, Harry sucked in a breath, desperately wishing that the voices in his head would cease. What made the entire situation worse was the fact that neither Ron nor Hermione had seemed surprised. Ron’s initial denial of course was based on the mere detail that it was Malfoy of all people. But that hadn’t stopped the red-head from changing his attitude rather quickly after Hermione made the point about Harry’s ongoing infatuation.

It was one thing to hate someone.

It was another to continuously bring attention to it as Hermione had lovingly pointed out.

Harry groaned. After all, if there was any truth to his denial about his crush over Malfoy, would he really be here lying in bed at two in the morning agonising over it? He didn’t exactly lie in bed contemplating Voldemort’s next plan to the point of obsession now, did he.

 _You don’t tend to get hard over Voldemort either…_ his subconscious added helpfully.

Harry stifled a groan. That had been only a _couple_ of times! He wasn’t even sure if it really was Malfoy that caused those particular reactions…

 _Oh give it up, Harry_ … he thought miserably. _The more excuses you make the more pathetic you sound…_

What did it matter though anyway? Malfoy was a snarky little git and probably always will be. Harry might find him physically attractive but that was as far as the appeal went. Whatever feelings he attempted to shove aside whenever he thought about the Slytherin seemed to be quite content to fuel his rage whenever he and Malfoy clashed.

 _Maybe that means he likes me in return_ …

Harry snorted at the thought, shaking his head. Yeah, the looks of pure loathing Malfoy threw at him in the past obviously demonstrated his undying love for him. Right.

Turning roughly onto his side with an exasperated sigh, Harry punched his pillow in tired frustration, knowing a couple of blows wasn’t likely to fix his mental lament.

 _Things would be so much easier if I didn’t have to see him every day…_ he thought, shutting his eyes stubbornly and willing himself to sleep.

* * *

 

“After what happened in Potions yesterday, Draco, I really think you should.”

Draco suppressed a growl. Pansy had been on his case about the _almost-incident_ in class since the previous day. Her solution? He apparently needed to feed. Draco had attempted to thwart her insistence all morning. He knew he still had enough time before the urge to feed overtook him… Potter just happened to be a unique temptation. He hated the idea of being treated as an uncontrollable child and Pansy had been doing a bang-up job of acting the part of the stressed-and-insistent mother.

Unfortunately, as much as the thought of feeding off Pansy was no longer as appealing as it had once been, Draco knew it was his best chance at deceiving her from his new focus.

And he was willing to do whatever it took to keep her suspicion off him.

Schooling his face into a cool, appeasing mask, Draco inclined his head as he gestured to his four-poster bed. “You’re right, Pansy,” he said. “I shouldn’t risk another situation like yesterday.”

Relief passed over the brunette’s face, mildly irritating Draco.

“At least we’re lucky today,” she said as she sat on the edge of his bed, pulling back her sleeve. “We don’t have any classes with Potter.”

 _What a shame…_ the blond thought, kneeling beside Pansy’s leg. He took her offered wrist, willing his fangs to lengthen. Unable to stop himself from tempting fate, the blond imagined that it was Potter’s wrist he held so carefully in his fingers. He closed his eyes, seeing Potter’s face, the brunet staring at him with his inquisitive green gaze. He could feel the beating radial pulse, fluttering so tantalisingly it made Draco’s mouth water. Sinking his fangs into the delicate flesh, the accustomed mildly appetising taste of blood abruptly reminded Draco that it was his best friend he was drinking from, not the male of his desire. He felt, rather than heard, Pansy sigh, the tension seeping out of her muscles as she relaxed into the arrangement.

Draco forced himself to drink, allowing himself to remain in the position for at least a minute before pulling away. He swiped his tongue across the bite mark, placing a final appreciative kiss as the wound began to heal. He rocked back on his heels, eyes still closed as he continued to kneel, waiting for Pansy’s blood to settle in his veins.

“Did you get enough?” Pansy asked gently, gazing down at the pink patch on her left wrist.

“Yes,” Draco murmured, his eyes opening. “Thank you.”

The Slytherin smiled, sliding off the edge of the bed to kneel beside the blond, hugging him tightly.

“I know this entire situation is frustrating for you,” she said gently. “But remember no matter what happens I will stick by you, alright?”

Draco sighed into the embrace, allowing, just for a brief moment, to pretend that everything was just as it was before that fateful summer.

“Thank you, Pans,” he mumbled.

* * *

 

The library was refreshingly quiet.

Cool, calculating grey eyes watched every movement a particular dark-haired Gryffindor made. Potter, at this point in time, was biting his lip, staring down at a roll of parchment resting on the desk before him. He was alone for the meantime; Weasley had disappeared within the rows of books in search for study material only moments before.

Draco’s lips curled into a predatory smirk.

He had contained his temptation to corner Potter all day. Instead, he had simply observed the Gryffindor whenever he could, needing the chance to study him, understand his habits, and find a way to speak with him.

Alone.

Draco was about to step from the shadows when the Weasel returned, dropping a large book onto the table with a grimace. The blond scowled and remained where he was, eyes steadfast on the dark-haired male who was gazing at his friend with a frown.

“Why did we think this was a good idea without Hermione?” Potter said. His voice was as clear as day to Draco, despite the distance between them.

“Because she told us to stop being selfish jerks,” Weasley replied with a groan. “It’s not our fault she’s better at this stuff than we are! It’s only natural for us to want to copy her study notes.”

Potter snorted as he turned his attention back to his parchment. With a glance at his watch, the young man sighed wearily. “I’m going to head down to the Great Hall now, mate,” he said, rolling up his parchment. “I’d rather not miss dinner for this bloody assignment.”

“Alright,” the red-head replied, sucking on the end of his quill. “I’m just going to finish this paragraph and then I’ll meet you down there.”

Draco watched in amusement as Potter’s eyebrows rose. “You’re going to _willingly_ stay in the library?”

“Mmm.” Weasley hummed. “If I finish this essay Hermione said she’d look over it for me while we’re at Quidditch practice.”

“Fair enough.”

The blond made sure his figure was hidden as Potter bypassed him on his way out of the library. The glint in Draco’s eyes grew, his skin tingling.

It was now or never.

* * *

 

A faint headache was beginning to blossom behind Harry’s eyes as he sauntered down the corridor. He was already tired of assessments and they’d only been back at Hogwarts for a couple of weeks. If this was what N.E.W.T year was going to be like, he had no idea how he was going to survive.

 _Maybe I should just drop out now and find something better to do with my time…_ Harry thought morosely. _Maybe I’ll take my chances with Voldy and see how that goes. I’ll either kill him and hopefully be rewarded with a job of some sort or he’ll kill me and I won’t have to worry—_

His thoughts were brought to an immediate halt as he walked straight into a tall, warm, and unnaturally strong figure.

“We have to stop meeting like this, Potter.”

The brunet cringed. _Of_ course _it was Malfoy you had to walk into…_

“What the fuck do you want, Malfoy?” Harry said irritably, trying to bypass the Slytherin.

Draco stepped into his path once more, smirking. “In a rush, Potter?” he asked, voice smooth like velvet.

Harry suppressed a shiver. He glared up at the blond who was staring at him intently. “Since when were you so chummy?” he snapped.

Malfoy’s smiled widened as if Harry’s annoyance amused him. “Maybe I’ve decided that I’m tired of our… quarrels.”

The Gryffindor snorted. “I don’t think seven years of our rivalry can be summoned up as _quarrels_.” He gestured at Malfoy in frustration. “So? Are you going to move or not?”

“And miss out on this chance to get to know The-Boy-Who-Lived? You must be joking.”

Despite the glare plastered to his face, Harry could feel the familiar unwanted flicker of interest growing within him. If the blond prat wasn’t so damn physically attractive it would have been a hell of a lot easier for Harry to squash the notion of temptation from raising its infuriating head.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t immediately jump on this friendship bandwagon,” he bit out. “It’ll take more than a day to get over years of insults.”

That bloody smile was still on Malfoy’s face and _oh_ how Harry wished he could smack it off him.

“Don’t you believe in house unity, Potter?”

Harry actually laughed. “Oh please, _you’re_ one to talk, Malfoy,” he retorted in disgust. “Whatever game you’re playing right now, I’m having none of it. Maybe if you stop being an arse for more than an hour I’ll actually consider a truce.” The brunet’s head gave a painful thump, increasing Harry’s irritation. “Now, _please_ get out of my way before I hex you.”

Surprisingly, Malfoy did so, gazing at Harry intently with his lips still quirked in a teasing smirk. The Gryffindor swallowed, ignored the abrupt flare of arousal, gripped his bag and shoved passed, his eyes fixed determinedly on the space before him.

“I’ll win you over yet,” Malfoy purred.

“ _Fat chance_ ,” Harry snapped, marching down the corridor.

* * *

 

Watching Potter as he stomped away, the smile on Draco’s face had grown once more, the corners of his lips curling and eyes filled with a determined glimmer. He had found that embracing the compulsion he felt whenever he was close to Potter, instead of fighting it, the desire to bite the Gryffindor was much easier to control.

For the duration of the conversation, the Slytherin had wanted nothing than to claim the brunet as his own. It had been only the two of them, the corridor bare and tantalisingly empty. Sensing the flickering desire that occasionally rose within Potter, Draco knew it would have been too easy to take what he wanted. However, as much as Draco craved the illusive Gryffindor, he wanted—no, _needed_ —Harry to be receptive to his advances; Draco desired a partner who yearned for him as much as he did in return. Those wonderful moments when the blond had sensed the Gryffindor’s longing had only fuelled his resolve despite Potter’s reluctance.

The chase was going to be fun.

* * *

 

 _W_ _hat the fuck is Malfoy’s deal…?_ Harry’s subconscious thought bitterly as he slipped into his seat at the Gryffindor table. _He hates me one minute and then he goes and pulls that shit… what the hell is going on?_

The brunet stabbed viciously as a sausage, much to the surprise of one Hermione Granger sitting beside him.

“Harry?” she questioned with a faint frown, “why are you spearing your sausage with vigour?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Harry blinked. “No reason,” he muttered, calming his motions as he continued to dish himself up some dinner. “Just a little frustrated is all…” Harry’s subconscious heartily snorted at that remark. _That’s not all you’re—frustrated—about…_

He groaned silently. As much as he wished it weren’t so, he couldn’t deny the way his body had reacted to the Slytherin only moments before. Things had been a lot easier when Malfoy had glared daggers in his direction, not smiled as if Harry was a beacon of life. He had been shocked when the usual flicker of pure-hatred, generally present at the initiation of his interactions with Malfoy, had been replaced with a simmer of arousal—something that had unnerved the brunet like nothing else. Of all the people that had finally ignited such a reaction from Harry it had to be _Malfoy_.

And that disgusted him the most.

“About what?”

“What?” Harry shook himself, glancing at the female beside him.

“Why are you frustrated? Is everything alright?”

Harry groaned a sigh, letting his fork clatter onto the plate. “I ran into Malfoy just before,” he grunted. “Bloody prat got me riled up is all.”

“Oh?” the female sitting beside him questioned casually. “An exchange of insults then?”

“If only,” Harry replied with a wry laugh. “Can you believe the git actually wants us to start being friends?”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose and she spared a quick glance to the Slytherin table where a familiar blond head could be seen.

“Friends? Really?” _Well this is certainly a change in Malfoy’s attitude…_

Harry chuckled darkly. “Completely ridiculous I know.”

“Mmm, yes,” Hermione replied absently, frowning at her goblet. She wondered what it was that had spurred Malfoy to ignore his determination to stay away from Harry. After all, the light-haired Slytherin had been extremely adamant that the idea of Harry being his mate repulsed him. _Why the sudden turn…?_

With a decisive nod, Hermione made a mental promise to speak with him. After all, attempting to make friends with Harry didn’t necessarily mean that Malfoy had accepted him as his blood-mate. Of course, it might have also been that Malfoy had been teasing Harry, messing around with him in order to keep some form of normality between them.

* * *

 

Draco had managed to escape Pansy after dinner, only to be hunted down by a bushy-haired Gryffindor.

“Malfoy! Do you have a minute?”

He halted, briefly closing his eyes and willing for patience. Turning on his heel, Draco watching as Granger made her way briskly towards him. The look on her face confirmed what he assumed she was here for and he swallowed a groan, not in the mood to be discussing Potter with her this evening.

“What is it, Granger?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

The female snorted as she stopped before him, eyeing the blond critically. “You know why I’m here,” she remarked. “Making friends with Harry now are we?”

Draco rose his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Is that what Potter thought I was doing?” he lied easily, allowing a look of disdain to fall across his features.

The brunette eyed the vampire critically. “I can’t exactly see Harry jumping to that conclusion based on a normal argument between the two of you. Therefore, you can imagine my surprise when he mentioned your name and ‘friends’ in the same sentence. What happened to you staying away from him?”

Draco shrugged. “We crossed paths on the way to dinner,” he replied. He held the female’s gaze, refusing to allow her scrutiny to break him.

“How are you handling the compulsion?” Granger asked then, surprisingly Draco slightly.

“Reasonably,” he answered somewhat truthfully. “I find acknowledging the fact that I have no choice in the matter makes it easier to control.”

The female choked a laugh, contemplating the blond with a small smile on her face. Draco was tempted to ask her what she found so damned amusing but held his tongue. Unfortunately for him, Granger was rather well tuned in her observations and as much as he wished otherwise, there was a very good chance she was already aware of his new fixation with Potter.

“If you ever do one nice thing in your life, Draco, may I request what it might be?” Granger asked then.

The Slytherin frowned. The Gryffindor’s smile widened.

With a sigh, Draco inclined his head. She had, after all, helped him throughout this entire ordeal. He could at least _pretend_ to care about her opinion.

“Do whatever you need in order to be happy— _genuinely_ happy.”

Draco felt himself grow still. Of all the words he expected to fall from the female’s mouth, it was definitely not _those._

“Excuse me?” he replied, hating himself only a little as his voice cracked.

Granger’s eyes were sickeningly kind as they studied him. “After everything that has happened, Draco, you deserve a little happiness.” She held up a hand to silence him as he opened his mouth in indignation. “I am well aware of our past, _Malfoy_ ,” she conjectured, quirking an eyebrow. “But you seem to forget that I am not a Slytherin. I still care about people regardless of how they may have acted. Lately, you’ve made it hard for me to continue to hate you. It’s funny how you were able to show me your humanity once you lost yours.”

Draco’s jaw dropped at her audacity. _Granger_. A _mudblood_ dare say that to _him?_ He waited for the usual surge of anger, the bubbling fury that he was so accustomed. And yet… her words held more truth in them than he cared to admit. He closed his mouth with an inaudible snap. Granger smirked.

“Exactly,” she stated. “It’s interesting how well you understand something once it’s gone.”

Feeling unexpectedly drained, Draco allowed a sigh to slip passed his lips. “Your point, Granger?” he pressed.

The Gryffindor willingly conceded, allowing her smirk to fall away. “I was being serious when I said do whatever makes you happy. And if Harry makes you happy, why deny yourself that?” If Granger was surprised by the revolted look Draco gave her she did not show it. Instead, she pressed on. “Regardless of your repulsion about Harry being your blood-mate, I know he could make you happy.”

The blond snorted. “ _Please_ , Granger, you have absolutely no idea—”

“Oh, shove it up your arse, Malfoy,” Granger interrupted good-naturedly, “and listen for once in your life. You’ve been exceptionally lucky, finding your blood-mate within the confines of Hogwarts. Even if I did buy your ‘ _I hate Potter and always will_ ’ act, I’d _still_ attempt to convince you to change your mind. I know Harry could make you happy… and I know you could make him happy in return.”

“Why would _you_ of all people condemn your best friend to _me_?” Draco sneered. He had become exceedingly uncomfortable while Granger had been speaking—she was hitting a little too close to home.

“Because I know you would never hurt Harry, the bond wouldn’t allow you to,” the Gryffindor stated bluntly. “You seem to have forgotten who it was who gave you all the information you needed about your new vampiric state.” She watched him knowingly and Draco bit back the retort. Granger opened her mouth once more—obviously her speech was not quite done yet—when approaching footsteps stopped her.

“Mr Malfoy, there you are.”

The two students turned in the direction of the familiar, contempt-filled voice. Professor Snape stalked towards them in his accustomed fashion, cloak billowing out behind him.

“The Headmaster would like to see you,” the Potions Master stated in his usual monotone. “I’m afraid your—discussion—with Miss Granger will have to be scheduled for another time.” He eyed the Gryffindor dismissively.

Taking the hint, the Gryffindor gave a nod. “Remember what I said,” she said, gaze steadfast on the blond. With a glance towards Snape and a “Goodnight, Professor”, the bushy-haired brunette turned on her heel, making her way back down the corridor, leaving Draco to stare after her in astonishment.

Until Snape cleared his throat.

“Come along, Draco.”

The Slytherin nodded absently, his mind still whirling from the conversation he’d just had with Granger no less. How could she of all people be alright with this bond situation? And be happy to give her consent for Merlin’s sake?

He found himself falling into step behind his godfather, pleased that Severus was not one for small talk. It gave him the time he needed in order to readjust from the verbal lashing he’d just received from Hermione bloody Granger. By the time Snape and Draco had climbed the spiralling staircase and stopped before the beautiful double oak doors, the blond’s mental barriers were firmly in place, his face set in a composed mask.

The Potions Master knocked and they waited for the familiar pleasant “Enter”. Pushing the door open, Severus gestured for Draco to step ahead of him. He did so, taking in the acquainted sights of Dumbledore’s office. The Headmaster sat in his usual place behind his desk, his twinkling blue eyes set on Draco with a faint smile on his lips.

“Good evening, Mr Malfoy,” the Headmaster greeted with a gentle inclination of his head.

“Headmaster,” Draco replied with a similar gesture, taking the seat the older man offered with a wave of his frail hand.

Draco had a faint idea on why he had been called to see Dumbledore. After all, he was the first person Severus had recommended they tell after the events of the previous summer had come to pass. The Headmaster no doubt wanted to hear all about Draco’s settlement since his—

“I gather your settlement into the school regime has been unproblematic, Draco?” Dumbledore asked then, confirming his assumptions.

He nodded in reply. “Yes, sir,” he replied, keeping his tone even and casual. “Fortunately there have been no serious problems.”

The knowing glint in Dumbledore’s eye warned the blond that the old man had grasped that that wasn’t entirely true. Before Draco could begin to contemplate what it was exactly the Headmaster knew, the older male spoke.

“Severus informs me that there was… a complication in class.”

Draco stamped on the growl that threatened to leave his throat. He shot his godfather a glare, the dark-haired man steadfastly staring at Dumbledore’s desk. Forcing his jaw to unlock, the blond met and held the Headmaster’s stare determinedly.

“It was Potter,” Draco replied offhandedly. “He had cut himself during ingredient preparation. The scent of blood caught me off guard. Thankfully, Pansy was prepared and I was able to gain control over my urges. I have already begun measures in order to prevent situations such as this in the future.”

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and gazed intriguingly at the Slytherin. Draco felt agitation well within him as he remained beneath the old man’s scrutinising stare. The annoyance he felt due to the fact that Severus had discussed him with the Headmaster without his knowledge grated on Draco’s nerves. He was no longer a child; anything his godfather had to discuss about him could have been done in his presence—not for him to be summoned like a deviant student after discussion had already taken place.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “The conditions of your return—”

“ _I know_ ,” Draco snapped brusquely. He paused, wincing at his outburst. “I know, sir,” he continued, voice gentler. “I apologise for my outburst,” he added after a moment.

The headmaster smiled benignly. His kind eyes stared enquiringly at the blond. “We were all aware that this change was not going to settle entirely smoothly. I will be honest with you, Draco, I am surprised at the amount of control you appear to retain. I had expected your return to Hogwarts to be a trying experience for you. Evidently, it has been a welcome change to my assumptions that you have not acted out in accordance to my expectations. It is this reason that I do not intend to reprimand you for the accidental slip in your Potions class. You will also be pleased to hear that despite voicing his concerns for your wellbeing, your godfather continues to believe in your ability to control your vampiric impulses… and I am inclined to agree with him.”

Draco raised his eyebrows at the statement. He glanced at the Potions Master, the dark-haired male staring at him with a slightly quirked eyebrow. Severus nodded minutely, holding Draco’s gaze for but a mere moment before Draco returned his stare to Dumbledore. He wondered then whether or not it was wise to tell the Headmaster of his potential blood-mate bond with Potter. After all, the brunet was Dumbledore’s Golden Boy, surely he wouldn’t want a conniving Slytherin to corrupt the poor male.

 _Then you may never have Potter…_ a silky voice murmured in his mind. _Why ruin your chance of attaining what is meant for you…?_

Draco squared his shoulders. “I appreciate your support, Headmaster,” he said politely. “And I keep my word that should there be any issues I will inform you immediately.”

“Excellent.” Dumbledore positively beamed at him. “I believe that concludes our meeting for this evening. Unless there is anything else you would like to discuss, you are free to return to your common room.”

Draco got to his feet. “Thank you, Professor.” He inclined his head in farewell, nodded to his Head of House, and excused himself. He was halfway down the staircase before he realised that Snape was not behind him. Knowing whatever it was that his godfather required to speak with the Headmaster was probably not for anyone else’s ears, Draco did not hesitate. His hearing was exceptionally good these days and it would be all too easy to remain behind undetected and eavesdrop. Unfortunately, he respected his godfather too much to deceive him like that. Besides, if he was lucky, he would be able to catch the tail-end of Gryffindor’s Quidditch practice.

Draco practically purred at the idea. A Quidditch robe clad Harry Potter had certainly captured Draco’s attention even before his becoming a vampire. And, if he just so happened to bump into the brunet again, Draco could see no harm in furthering the attempt to win Potter over.

A wicked grin overtook the blond’s face.

He had been so tired from running from this Potter issue. Looking back, Draco honestly could not remember why it was he had been so adamant about refusing the Gryffindor. Indeed, their past was nothing short of frustrating and insult-filled, however beneath the excessive amount of denial that Draco had managed to accumulate over the past seven years, there was the underlying desire that had driven him to achieve Potter’s attention. And for something as pitiful as standard hatred for one another… it was amazing to see how often the two of them pursued each other rather than disregard each other’s existence.

 _Fucking Pansy was right_ … Draco thought with a sneer as he headed for the Entrance Hall. _She’s never going to let me live this down…_

Stepping out into the cool night air, Draco drew in a deep breath, his senses coming alive as they sought out the familiar scents and sounds drifting from the Quidditch pitch. Oh yes, whether or not Potter liked it, Draco had his resolve set on him.

And Draco always got what he wanted.

* * *

 

“She said _what_?” Harry gaped at his best friend who cringed beneath his stare.

“She said you should give Malfoy a chance,” Ron repeated, nose crinkling at the very idea.

“Why the _fuck_ —”

“Mate! Mate, I _know_ ,” Ron interrupted, squeezing Harry’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “I totally get your frustration. But the thing is—you never seem to be happy regardless if you’re ignoring Malfoy or fighting with him. So… why don’t you? If Hermione says Malfoy is being genuine with his attempt to befriend you… why don’t you just see how it goes?”

Harry stared at the red-head as he shouldered his broom. “Have you both gone insane?”

Ron grinned. “Maybe,” he replied, mirroring Harry and shouldering his broom also.

The two of them left the Quidditch pitch, making their way back up the grassy hill towards the castle. Harry’s mind was buzzing. He honestly couldn’t believe even _Ron_ was on-board this ‘Get to Know Malfoy’ ploy. It was absolutely ludicrous! He and Malfoy? _Friends…?_

_Not that you’d want anything more, hey, Harry…?_

The brunet shoved the concept out of his mind. He was tired from practice and the headache, which had been hanging around since his run-in with the blond earlier that same day, was flaring up again. _God_ was his life ever simple? Couldn’t he just meet someone who didn’t want to make him yank out his hair with each spoken word? Was it that hard for Harry to have _one_ normal aspect to his life…?

 _You seem to forget all of those failed ‘normal’ aspects…_ his inner voice hissed. _You tried being normal, remember? It never seems to go the way you anticipate…_

Harry smothered a groan as he realised the truth behind his thoughts. His previous attempts at dating had all failed miserably. It certainly wasn’t a lack of trying on Harry’s behalf—he had really striven to be attracted to Cho and Ginny and even that muggle boy he’d met during the summer. Yet no matter how strong his intent, how much he yearned for a conventional relationship… it had never seemed to work out. Harry was just unable to connect to them in a way that others did.

Not like Malfoy.

The damn Slytherin always managed to ignite something with the brunet that Harry had been unable to explain. And the most frustrating part was the fact that Harry really _did_ find Malfoy attractive. His bodily responses were certainly proof enough.

Realisation slammed into Harry so strongly he actually faltered as he and Ron started up the stairs.

 _Oh fuck_ , he thought, staring unseeingly at the stone. _I really do have a crush on Draco Malfoy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated!! I love writing for you guys but some response would be amazing! ^_^


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s been a while, Draco, do you need…?” Pansy’s hand hovered over her left wrist as she gazed at her friend. With a brief look in her direction, Draco shook his head.

“No, I’m alright, thank you, Pans,” he replied.

The room was quiet as Pansy eyed him carefully. “Are you sure?” she asked after a moment.

Draco nodded. He only wanted to feed from his best friend when it was absolutely necessary. Pansy’s blood, while it sustained him, was not what he craved. He felt it as a betrayal to his prospective mate and now that he had accepted his attraction to Potter, he was not going to allow anything to hinder his desire.

Even if that meant going hungry.

“Come on,” he said instead, “we’re going to be late for breakfast.”

He knew it was stupid. He knew refusing Pansy’s blood was a foolish thing to do. Even still, he was unable to fight the constant crave for Harry that wilfully shoved his conscience aside. After all, since Draco had accepted his attraction, there was no need to deny himself from the brunet’s presence now, was there?

* * *

 

Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table, head resting in his palm and chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast as he stared across the hall. Malfoy was speaking with Zabini, occasionally smiling and chuckling at whatever the other male had to say.

 _Would it actually kill the bastard to smile like that at me…?_ Harry thought. _Might help me like him more…_

Harry dropped his stare with indignant sigh. Coming to terms with his apparent crush on one Draco Malfoy was proving to be much more difficult than he realised. As much as Harry was attracted to Malfoy, he still really, really, _really_ disliked the git.

“Something troubling you, mate?”

Ron’s question startled Harry from his thoughts and he looked up at the red-head as the male plopped down onto the bench beside him.

“No, not really,” he lied, tossing his half-finished triangle of toast to his plate and reaching for his goblet.

Ron glanced over in the direction his best friend had been staring in only moments before. “Uh huh,” he offered with a small grin. “Hey, have you finished that essay McGonagall gave us?”

Harry shook his head. “Not yet. Was going to go to the library after Charms.”

“Want to have a look at mine? Hermione’s already gone over it.”

“Sounds bloody brilliant.” The dark-haired Gryffindor flashed Ron a grin. “Thank god for Mione.”

Ron chuckled. “You’re not wrong.” He reached across the table to fill his plate with eggs and sausages. “So… any further development on the Malfoy-front?”

Harry, who had been in the action of drinking from his goblet, unexpectedly spluttered, choking on his pumpkin juice as he turned to stare at his best friend.

“W-What?”

“You know,” Ron continued, as if he hadn’t just caused the Boy-Who-Lived to choke on his drink, “Malfoy. Have you decided if you like him or not yet?”

Harry threw his freckled friend a glare. “It’s not like I woke up this morning with the sudden urge to be Malfoy’s best friend.”

“I guess that’s fair.” Ron bit into a sausage, chewing hastily. “It would be kind of weird seeing you guys acting all friendly all of a sudden.”

“What’s this?” Hermione’s voice joined them as the bushy-haired brunette sat across from them at the table, her eyebrows raised.

“Malfoy and me becoming friends,” Harry all but grumbled.

“Oh, really?” Hermione looked pleasantly surprised. “Is this actually happening or are you still sulking?”

“Hermione!” Harry grumbled.

The female shrugged. “I think it’s about time you guys moved on from this childish feud. It’s nice that Malfoy has decided to bury the hatchet, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Harry muttered, glaring down at his plate.

“Well good then,” Hermione finished brightly, reaching for some toast. “Hopefully means less drama for our final year.”

Ron and Harry both shared the same wry glance.

_Yeah that’d be the day…_

* * *

 

Harry was glaring down at his assessment when someone slid into the chair beside him. Assuming it was either Ron or Hermione, the brunet looked up with a smile. The expression fell from his face as his eyes landed on the familiar smirk of his least favourite Slytherin.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry muttered, returning his gaze to his essay.

“Ready to give this friendship thing a chance, Potter?” came the reply.

“Not really,” Harry retorted. “But you’re not going to give it up, are you?”

Malfoy smiled, his silver eyes shining mischievously as he eyed the Gryffindor. “See? You already know me _so_ well.”

Harry snorted inelegantly. His quill was still poised over the parchment but no words were being written. It was hard enough ignoring Malfoy sitting so closely beside him, let alone trying to make any sort of sense in his Transfiguration assignment while the blond stared at him openly. Gritting his teeth, Harry dropping his quill to the table and reached for his ink pot, corking it and tossing it into his bag before rolling his parchment into a rough scroll.

“Leaving already?”

Harry could practically _hear_ the smirk colouring each word.

“Your presence is annoying me. I can’t concentrate,” he bit back in reply.

“Marvellous. Perhaps now we can have a proper conversation.”

The brunet smothered a groan as he dumped his belongings into his bag and got to his feet, hitching the strap onto his shoulder.

“Go bother someone else, Malfoy.”

“No.”

Malfoy fell into step with Harry easily, keeping the brisk pace as if walking with the Golden Boy was the most natural thing in the world.

“So, Potter, what’s your favourite class?”

Harry blinked at the question, his footsteps faltering slightly as they neared a staircase. “What?” he replied obtusely.

“ _Class_ , Potter. What’s your favourite?” Malfoy spoke slowly, the obvious connotation that he believed Harry to be slow dripping with each word.

Harry scowled. “Why the fuck do you even want to know?” He kept his gaze on the steps as they descended, knowing without a doubt he’d never hear the end of it if he tripped in front of Malfoy.

“Mine’s Potions of course,” the blond continued, gliding down the staircase elegantly. “Considering your abysmal attempts in Professor Snape’s class I can only stipulate that Potions is not your strong suit. Any fool would have automatically assumed your favourite was Defence Against the Dark Arts but you don’t strike me as—”

“Will you just _stop_?”

“No.”

Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly, glaring at the Slytherin who merely smirked in response.

“If you refuse to speak with me in a civilised manner, I will simply ask you questions about yourself,” Malfoy stated. “Sharing information about one another is what prospective friends do after all.”

“ _We_ are not prospective frie—”

“What’s your favourite colour?” Malfoy interrupted easily.

“Give it _up_ , Malfoy.”

“Red seems too cliché after all and you’re much too extravagant for predictability—”

Harry choked on his breath. “Look who’s talking!” he replied indignantly.

“Is it pink? Orange? Is _that_ why you became friends with Weasley? I should have known.”

“Is this how you plan on becoming my friend? Annoying me to death?”

The smile that broke out across Malfoy’s face practically blinded Harry, and it took him a moment before he was able to tear his gaze away from the blond’s face.

“You refuse to speak to me. Therefore, I will converse for the both of us. Eventually you will tire of listening to me talk and will no doubt give in and join the conversation. It will be interesting to see how long your stubborn Gryffindor attitude lasts.” Malfoy tilted his head mockingly. “It’s your choice, Potter.”

“Good god, you’re serious about this.”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Hmm, maybe the fact that we’ve spent the last seven years loathing one another?”

“Merlin, Potter, you really need to let the past go.”

With a snort and a shake of his head, Harry pushed open a door to the courtyard. As he stepped out into the warm sunshine, Harry seriously considered possible jinxes to stop the blond from speaking continuously. Alright, so the prospect of becoming friends with the git had initially been alarming, but there was really no reason why Harry couldn’t warm up to the idea, not since the realisation he’d made about being _attracted_ to him and everything—

Harry paused, realising with a start of surprise that Malfoy was no longer beside him. He turned back to the doors with a frown, his eyebrows lifting in mild disbelief when he saw the blond-headed Slytherin standing in the shadows of the doorway.

“If I had known going outside was a turn off for you I would have done this years ago,” Harry commented, not making any effort to return to the castle.

A sour look passed over Malfoy’s face as the young man scanned the courtyard. “The sun causes blemishes,” he said lamely.

“Is that why you stopped playing Quidditch this year?” A look of concern suddenly appeared on Harry’s face. “You didn’t get skin cancer or something did you?”

The frown, which had already appeared at the mention of Quidditch, deepened, and Malfoy quirked his head to the side.

“Skin cancer?” he questioned.

Harry blinked. “Do… wizards not get cancer?”

Malfoy shook his head. “I do not believe so. I have never heard of a wizard getting ‘cancer’.” He shivered abruptly. “Spattergroit however…”

Harry stared. “Well… if it wasn’t the threat of cancer that turned you off being in the sun, why did you resign from the Quidditch team?”

“Why, do you miss me, Potter?”

Harry snorted. “Excuse me for noticing the one thing you seemed to love aside from potions,” he replied. “You love trying to upstage me and I know you love flying—why did you stop?” The brunet watched as a hint of sadness appeared in Malfoy’s face. He barely had time to make sense of this when Malfoy had slipped his usual mask across his features.

“There are more important aspects this year,” Draco drawled. “My education for one. Unlike you, I intend to excel in my N.E.W.Ts.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “ _Excuse_ me?” he spluttered, stomping back to the doorway.

“You heard me.” The blond smiled wickedly. “I still have many chances to upstage you, Potter. Just because quidditch is no longer on the list does not mean I will stop kicking your arse at everything else.”

“Shove off, _Malfoy_. I bet I could maintain my role as quidditch captain _and still_ beat you in N.E.W.Ts.”

“Is that a challenge you really want to try to meet, Potter?” Malfoy purred.

Harry glared at the smug smirk plastered to the Slytherin’s face. Malfoy was staring at him in his usual penetrating manner and it made Harry want to do… things that he would rather not admit. And… the fuck? Was Malfoy _flirting_ with him?!

Harry felt his cheeks begin to burn. “I’m game if _you_ are, Malfoy,” he stated, holding the slightly-heated silver gaze steadily.

Unexpectedly, the hunger that Draco had been easily ignoring for the past few days roared into life. His upper jaw began to ache, senses flaring wildly as they zeroed in on the one thing he desired the most. He could hear Potter’s heat beat in his ear. Could see the gentle pulse thudding away in his neck. And his _scent…_

“—so? This bet happening or not?”

Oh fuck, Potter was speaking. What was he even saying? Draco blinked, Potter’s face coming back into focus. How long had he been staring?

“Er—you alright?”

Potter was frowning, staring at Draco as if he’d grown another head. With a quick quirk of his head, the blond drew in a silent steadying breath and took a half step back.

“Of course the bet is still on,” he murmured, proud at how controlled his voice sounded to his ears. “I was simply weighing the pros and cons of this arrangement. Of course, there is nothing but a positive outlook for me since I will _easily_ be the victor—”

Harry groaned aloud, rolling his green eyes in exasperation. “Whatever, Malfoy, I guess only time will tell now, huh?”

“Yes.” Draco smiled minutely. “Time will tell.”

* * *

 

The bathroom was filled with the rush of water, the taps on full bore as Draco splashed his face. He leant on the sink heavily, closing his eyes and swallowing tightly as his body trembled.

_Breathe… just breathe…_

It had taken all of his strength to leave Potter after their conversation that afternoon. Draco had been close— _so close_ —to losing all sense of himself. There the brunet had been, standing so appetisingly before him, the hum of life surging through his veins, calling, _screaming_ at Draco.

With a jerk of his hand, he shut off the taps. Water gurgled down the drain and he stared at the emptying sink with a pit growing in his stomach. There was a fire in his chest, burning him from the inside out. The longer he refrained from claiming Harry, the further the fire spread.

And Draco was rapidly running out of strength.

The voices in his head thought of nothing else but claiming his mate, swirling in his mind and filling his subconscious with vicious visions. The imagined sensation of piercing Harry’s delectable skin, blood coursing down his throat, filling him, strengthening him…

 _Mine…_ the voice in his head growled.

Draco shuddered and he looked up to the mirror, unsurprised to see the tips of his fangs poking passed his lips. His eyes were strangely bright as they examined the reflection; he had never looked less like the Draco Malfoy he had been so accustomed.

But that was just it—Draco was not the same person he used to be. _How could he be_ when a creature had taken over; walking in his skin, sharing his memories? He craved Harry on a level that should have been impossible and yet here he was, doing everything he could in order to keep himself away.

 _But why…?_ A voice hissed. _Harry is your mate… he is yours…_

Draco swallowed again, the tremor in his body growing.

_And once the bond is established… Harry will be yours forever…_

Oh sweet Merlin, Draco wished for nothing more. Standing here, alone in his bathroom, the blond came to a decision so resolute his body positively hummed.

Harry Potter would be his.

* * *

 

Harry rubbed his eyes for the thirteenth time. Below him, the words on his essay were beginning to blur. He had known coming straight from Quidditch practice to go to the library to finish his essay was going to be a mistake but if he didn’t, he’d fall excessively behind. He had needed to finish this stupid assignment and get it out of the way in order to begin the next three that were waiting for him back in his room. There was no way he was going to let Malfoy win their bet.

Harry glanced at the time, realising with a shock that it was already close to midnight. The library would be closing in just a few minutes. Staring down at his essay with a sigh, Harry dropped his quill and rolled up the parchment. He was close to finishing, he’d be able to complete it tomorrow morning during his free period. He packed up his bag and stood, feeling exhaustion wash over him as he left the nearly deserted library, making his way back to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

 

His gaze was set on the dark-haired Gryffindor as Draco stepped from the shadows of the book shelves. He’d been watching Potter for the last two hours, thoughts and fantasies running amok in his head. His upper jaw was throbbing with anticipation, his chest burning with desire.

 _Tonight_ … he thought determinedly.

* * *

 

The castle was blissfully quiet as Harry walked down the empty corridor. His mind was buzzing tiredly, thoughts of a warm shower and his soft bed the only thing circling his consciousness. The familiar swish of robes made Harry frown and he looked up, expecting to see another student or perhaps a teacher nearby. An empty corridor greeted his gaze. With a shake of his head, Harry shrugged offhandedly.

_Probably more exhausted than I realise I am…_

He hitched his bag further up his shoulder and stifled a yawn. God, he was definitely looking forward to that shower. This bloody essay had been the bane of his existence for the past two weeks, and what with Quidditch practice and Malfoy’s _incessant_ attempts to get to know him, Harry’s nerves were right on edge and he was definitely desperate for some form of release. At the thought of the pale-haired Slytherin, a shot of lust to shot straight through him and Harry exhaled, closing his eyes briefly. He was tired of fighting his attraction to Malfoy; maybe it wouldn’t hurt to indulge. After all, there had to be a reason for Malfoy’s sudden approach, perhaps the blond found him attractive also—

The unmistaken scrape of a shoe on stone caused Harry to pause. His gaze shot up and down the corridor, brow furrowed with confusion. There was no one in sight, despite how close the sound had been. He _must_ be hearing things.

 _Probably Peeves fucking around…_ Harry thought tiredly. _Or a couple of students trying to get off in the shadows…_

That thought had Harry snorting a laugh. Distracted by that image, he barely had time to acknowledge the way his name was hissed as he passed a particularly shadowed alcove. A pair of arms suddenly shot out of the darkness, wrapping themselves around Harry’s waist and pulling him into the shadows. His exhausted mind was only just catching up to this fact when he felt his back press up against something warm, the arms twisting themselves around his figure and holding him tightly.

“I have waited for this moment for too long, Harry,” a voice suddenly purred in his ear.

Surprisingly, a flicker of arousal erupted in Harry’s core, shocking the brunet at the way his body was responding. He barely felt his bag slip from his shoulder and thud to the floor as a sudden heat enveloped him.

“M-Malfoy?” he managed with a faint gasp. He bit back the moan that threatened as Malfoy’s hands moved voluptuously over his figure, one hand drifting downwards while the other slid up his Quidditch robes, fingers delicately tracing over the skin on Harry’s throat.

“Mmm,” the blond hummed, his nose ghosting along the Gryffindor’s neck; Harry’s scent filled his lungs, empowering his every movement. “ _Merlin,_ you smell divine.”

Harry’s mind had gone completely blank. Malfoy’s presence overwhelmed him, the simmering flame of arousal growing so potently it seemed to spread beneath every inch of his skin. Harry’s breath hitched and he bit his lip as he felt Malfoy’s tongue glide languidly up his throat. Delicate and yet powerful fingers gripped his jaw, turning his head to the side and exposing his neck. Malfoy’s other hand was busy undoing the brunet’s trousers, slipping beneath the material and beginning to rub Harry’s growing erection.

A soft growl was emanating from the Slytherin’s throat, his silver eyes bright with exhilaration as the brunet in his arms gave himself to him. Draco’s body absolutely _hummed_ with the prospect of Potter’s blood, his fangs lengthening impatiently, and a soft whimper fell from Harry’s lips when Draco’s hand enclosed around his cock, stroking it in time with each kiss he sucked teasingly on the skin of the Gryffindor’s throat. Harry’s back arched, fingers digging into the body behind him.

“ _Yes_ ,” Draco hissed, unable to stop himself from scraping his fangs along the exposed skin of the Gryffindor’s shoulder. He could practically taste Harry’s desire, the building arousal as the man in his arms drew closer and closer to completion. The brunet’s chest heaved, gasps falling from his lips. He couldn’t stop himself now even if he wanted. He was too far gone, lost in the overpowering passion that invaded him to the core— _never_ had he felt this before.

He worked his hand along Harry’s cock rhythmically, needing the male in his arms to experience as much pleasure as he could give. Draco would be taking something very precious from the brunet, he simply desired to return the gift. His wrist twisted, thumb stroking almost lovingly across the head of Harry’s erection. The brunet choked a breath, hips jutting forward into Draco’s hand, a whimper echoing in the small dark space.

“D- _Draco_.” Harry barely heard himself gasp. “ _Please_ …”

A smirk curled at Malfoy’s lips and he pressed one last lingering kiss to his skin. “ _Come for me, Harry_ ,” he purred, slicing his fangs finally into Harry neck, the brunet’s blood gushing onto his tongue.

Harry felt himself jerk violently as the orgasm ripped through him so forcibly he thought he’d split in two. His mouth was open in a silent scream of ecstasy, pleasure he had never dreamed of clouding his mind; his very being. Malfoy gave a guttural moan in reciprocation; Harry’s blood was like nothing he’d ever tasted in his life. It was like a rich, heavenly wine, and he could feel a power spreading through him he had never experienced. It was complete _ambrosia_. He drank deeply, his craving for the brunet seemingly unquenchable as the delectable red liquid cascaded down his aching throat. He’d waited _so long_ for this and Draco allowed himself to drown in his mate’s allure, unable to get enough of the Gryffindor in his arms. A faint flicker of Harry’s heart made itself known and Draco sensed instantly that he was close to taking too much. He withdrew his fangs immediately, swiping his tongue delicately across the brunet’s skin to close the puncture marks.

As the waves of pleasure died to a simmer, Harry felt himself sag in Malfoy’s embrace, his head lolling back against his shoulder, Draco’s strong arms the only thing keeping him standing. He barely felt the male behind him fixing him up, casting cleaning spells. Harry’s mind was dull, thoughts barely coherent.

“Sleep now, Harry.”

Harry’s mind instantly quietened, body going entirely limp as Malfoy lifted his now sleeping mate into his arms. Draco gazed down at him in complete adoration. He had never felt closer to another male in his life. Shifting Harry in his arms, Draco held him closely, tenderly. Leaning down he pressed a lingering kiss to Harry’s warm forehead. At that moment, his and the brunet’s heart pumped as one. He could feel every breath Harry drew, every emotion that Harry felt.

And it was perfect.

* * *

 

Harry woke drowsily, mind foggy. He blinked, a frown tugging at his brow. He did not remember making it to bed last night—he must have been more beat from quidditch practice than he’d realised. Trying to collect his thoughts, Harry discovered he did not recall much after deciding to leave the library and yet… here he was. In bed.

With a groan, Harry rolled over, pulling his blankets up to his chin. God, he was _exhausted_ … Perhaps the combination of quidditch and seventh year was not a good arrangement. How on earth had Wood managed?

 _Then again, he’d had several years to practice and work it all out_ … Harry reminded himself. This was the first time Harry had been Captain… and it was a lot harder than Wood had made it look. Even Angelina had appeared to handle it better than he was doing. Tiredly, Harry groped for his wand, giving it a flick. Blazing red number appeared in the air.

 _7:05_.

 _Oh thank fuck_ … Harry thought, dropping his wand onto the bedside table. He still had time to sleep before his next class. _Thank god for free periods…_

* * *

 

“Harry, mate, you’re looking a bit peaky, you alright?”

The brunet slumped into his seat beside the red-head, offering a half-hearted shrug as he pulled out his History of Magic textbook. “Bloody exhausted is all,” he replied. “I think seventh year and quidditch is finally taking its toll.”

On Ron’s other side, Hermione leant forward with a frown. “Are you eating enough iron?” she questioned. “Excessive tiredness is a massive indication of anaemia. Granted, it’s not as common in males as it would be in females but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. In addition, with the extra work you’ve been putting in this year, it will probably explain as to why—”

“Mione,” Harry interrupted, “I love you, but my mind is barely focusing as it is without you going all lecturer on me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but allowed a small smile to grace her lips. “Alright I’ll back off. But I’ll be watching you like a hawk during lunch today to make sure you’re eating correctly.”

“Leave the poor guy alone, Hermione,” Ron interjected good naturally. “So Harry’s feeling a little buggered—happens to everyone.”

“Yes, but, Ronald…”

His friends’ voices dimmed as Harry suddenly found himself staring fixatedly at the classroom door. He wasn’t sure what made him look. It was if a switch had clicked in his mind, and he knew, somehow, that it would be Malfoy walking into the classroom next. He watched the doorway expectedly, the blond’s familiar face coming into his line of sight. Instantly, Harry body flooded with heat. He couldn’t even tell how much of it was embarrassment and how much was arousal. Flashes of lingering touches, delicious scents, and surging pleasure flickered in his mind’s eye and Harry swallowed dryly.

 _Fuck… that must have been one intense dream…_ he thought hazily as he shoved fingers through his hair. _Probably adds to the exhaustion if my mind was busy thinking up_ that _last night…_

It made sense in Harry’s head. After all, hadn’t he been thinking about Malfoy in that manner on his way back to his room last night? No doubt his subconscious had decided to take things into its own hands.

But, good god, _it had felt so real_.

Concealing a shiver, Harry forced his gaze down, trying to ignore the blush he could feel creeping up his neck. A particular spot on the skin of his throat tingled and he found himself brushing his fingertips across the sensitive section, swallowing. When a pair of silver eyes met his, Harry found himself blushing furiously, gaze dropping to the table top.

 _I guess it’s hard to deny my attraction now, then…_ he thought resignedly.

* * *

 

The waves of desire Draco could feel emanating from Harry surprised him as he took his seat. He had convinced himself that Potter was going to detest what had happened between them—after all, Draco had left little room for rejection when he took what he craved from Harry. He was not sure how much of the previous night the Gryffindor was going to remember; everything had happened so quickly it had been hard to determine what might have been Harry’s wish and what could have been Draco’s will. The blond was aware of the… persuasion… he could have over humans now, however, whether or not it had any effect on his supposed blood-mate was something not thoroughly researched. According to the texts given to him by Granger, it only became clear that once a bond had been established that the mate would have total control over their own mind. It was still up for debate as to whether the mate had had their minds clouded during pre-bonding moments.

Draco severely hoped not.

It was one thing to crave someone. It was another to crave someone who wanted nothing to do with him only to be coerced forcibly. And, good god, there would be no way he could stay away from Potter now, not after finally tasting his mate. Draco had never felt so fulfilled. He was whole; the empty hollow that had been plaguing him for weeks filled entirely with Harry’s presence. And he only yearned for him more.

When he had entered the History of Magic classroom, Draco had been swamped with immense guilt when he’d first lain eyes on his mate. Harry had appeared exceptionally pale and extremely exhausted; Draco knew with little doubt that it had been his doing.

 _You took too much_ … he scolded himself. _You could have hurt him…_ Shaking his head, Draco glared determinedly down at the wood of his desk. _No, I’ll be more careful next time…_

_Next time?_

So there would indeed be a next time? Draco stole a look across the room. Potter caught his eye, blushed heavily, and looked away. Draco felt his lips part as a breath escaped him.

Oh, yes. There would definitely be a next time.

* * *

 

“Hey, Malfoy?”

He froze. Keeping his face neutral, Draco turned gracefully, eyes landing on Potter as the young man came to stand beside him. His cheeks were reddened slightly and Draco’s brow furrowed a little in wonderment.

“Yes, Potter?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

Students were staring at them in the corridor, a few worried faces flitting back and forth between him and Harry, most likely petrified that curses would soon fly.

“It’s about yesterday,” Potter began, reaching up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

_Oh dear Merlin… this is it… he’s going to reject me…_

“It wasn’t really fair of me to act like such a git. You know, since you were trying to be friendly and all.”

_He’s… talking about yesterday afternoon…?_

“I hardly noticed,” Draco found himself saying. He stared at Harry, opening himself to the thoughts and feelings his mate radiated. A cascade of emotions poured into Draco and he shifted through them effortlessly. Embarrassment was heavily present, but not for the reason Draco had expected. Eyeing the male before him carefully, realisation hit him so hard he almost stepped back in alarm.

 _He thinks it was a dream…_ he thought with mild astonishment.

Draco wasn’t sure how he felt about this revelation. On one hand, Potter did not outright loathe him. On another, the brunet had no clue as to what had been done to him; what Draco had taken…

“Erm, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m willing to give this friendship thing a go?” The Gryffindor blinked up at him, green eyes full of cautious optimism.

Draco felt his lips pull into a smile. “Our bet is still on however?”

Determination quickly replaced the optimism. “You bet your arse it is, Malfoy,” Potter replied.

Happiness should have been soaring through him at this little success. Instead, Draco felt despondent, the realisation that the brunet had no clue as to what he was or what he had done overwhelming him. There would be no way he could take from Harry again, not when his mate remained unaware. A voice in his head demanded he tell Potter exactly what had happened, to reveal the truth about what had been done to him over the summer. Another voice, however, a stronger and more determined voice, warned Draco not to lose what he had already acquired: a way into Harry’s trust, into his life. By revealing the truth, there was a large chance he would be bereaved of what should be his.

And Draco was not willing to allow the chance that Harry would deny him.

* * *

 

Pansy was concerned.

Draco had not taken from her vein for an entire month—which was fourteen days longer than they had ever gone before. What worried Pansy was how unaffected her best friend seemed to be. Twenty-nine days was an exceptionally long time to test the boundaries of how long he could last.

At this moment, Pansy was sitting on the edge of Draco’s bed, watching him as he applied his usual charms. She couldn’t keep the frown off her face as she stared. _How on earth was he able to go so long without feeding…?_

Pansy cleared her throat. “I’ve realised it’s been some time since you fed, Draco,” she commented. “I’m sure you’re famished—”

“I’m fine,” he replied.

Pansy narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t fed in four weeks, Draco,” she argued, “unless you’ve been sneaking bites in my sleep.”

“And yet, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’ve been fine,” Draco retorted. “I’m not exactly about to keel over.”

The brunette frowned at her best friend. He refused to meet her eye as he stared at himself in the mirror, wand moving up and down his arms. “I can’t believe you’re being so blasé about this, Draco. How do you know you won’t just snap? What happens if Potter cuts himself again in class? You need to be more responsible!”

“I am not a _child_ , Pansy,” Draco hissed.

“Then stop acting like one,” she replied immediately. “You know I keep track of how often you feed. Do you think I wouldn’t have noticed that it’s been an entire month?” She glared at the vampire in annoyance. “All it takes is _one_ mistake, Draco, and then you’re fucked.”

“Your trust in me is illuminating,” Malfoy growled, shoving his wand up his sleeve.

“It’s the lack of trust in your new instincts you great _prat_.” Pansy got to her feet, marching across the room to stand before him. “Do I need to remind you how _new_ this is? Oh wait, I seemed to have forgotten how much of a vampire you were _before_ the summer.”

Draco’s upper lip curled, a snarl working its way up his throat. Pansy stared up at him, her face softening as she reached out.

“Draco, I—” she sighed. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. It would be so easy for people to turn on you now… I don’t… I don’t want that to happen.”

Slowly, the anger surging through Draco ebbed away. He too, released a deep sigh and he reached out, pulling Pansy into a quick embrace. He should have known Pansy would be on his case. It had been rather stupid of him to try and pretend his best friend would not notice he had not been drinking from her.

“Please,” she murmured. “Just… take what you need. At least for my peace of mind.”

The blond couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Pansy _would_ use that tactic, the sly little bint.

“Alright,” he conceded, pulling away from her.

She turned immediately for the bed, sitting back down on the edge of the mattress and drawing back her robe sleeve. She watched Draco as he crossed the floor to join her, kneeling beside the bed. She offered her arm silently and Draco found that he could only stare at the exposed flesh. He eyed Pansy’s wrist with distaste, the thought of drinking from anyone else besides Harry making his stomach churn. But he had to. He had already succumbed to his desire once… he couldn’t do it again. Potter still had _no clue_ as to what had even occurred that night. And as much as Draco desired his mate, he couldn’t bring himself to continue lying to the brunet.

“Draco?”

He glanced up at the female who was gazing at him with a faint frown.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Draco replied automatically, taking Pansy’s hand into his.

Feeling his fangs lengthen, Draco bent over Pansy’s wrist, fighting the urge to pull away as her scent surrounded him. The lore that vampires could drink from no one but their mate once the bond was initialised crossed his mind, but he had to try. It was blood—how on earth could a bond prevent him from digesting something he had happily managed only a few weeks before? Resolve overcame him as this thought settled in his head and, after a moment, he pierced her skin, her blood filling his mouth.

Instantaneously, Draco gagged, ripping his lips away in distaste as he snapped back away from her.

“Draco!” Pansy leant forward in worry. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Draco swallowed convulsively as he tried not to throw up. He turned away, wiping the blood from his mouth. The crimson fluid that he had once been able to swallow was now rotten in his mouth; fermented like decayed fruit. He found himself staring at her in horror, the realisation of what he had done settling over his shoulders. Recognising the look on his face, Pansy gasped.

“Draco, you _didn’t_ ,” she seethed, snatching her wand to heal the bite on her wrist that was still bleeding sluggishly.

The blond winced, turning away.

“You goddamn _idiot!_ Do you realise what this means?!”

Draco could only stare at the carpet. He felt as if he was falling, his body submerged into a void of darkness as the repercussions of his actions finally hit him. How could he have been so _stupid?_ What on earth was he going to do now? There was only one source he could now feed and Potter had _no idea_ what he was to Draco…

…or what Draco even was.

“—when did this happen? Is that how you’ve been able to go so long without feeding from me? _Answer me, Draco!_ ”

The blond jerked his head up, eyes wide as he gawked at the dark-haired female. He hadn’t even realised she had been speaking.

“A little more than a week ago,” he murmured.

Pansy stared at Draco in complete desecration. “Why didn’t you _tell me_ ,” she demanded in a shrill voice. “How did it happen? And why did you try to drink from me if you have initialised the bond with Potter? Why haven’t you gone back to him?”

Draco turned away from his best friend, closing his eyes as the truth burned on his tongue. “He—” his throat tightened, hands clenching at his sides. “He doesn’t know,” he finished in a whisper.

“ _What?!_ ” Pansy hissed. “Draco, what the _hell_ did you do?”

“I fucked up, Pansy, that’s what I did.” Draco covered his face with his hands, hating himself more than he ever had. “I couldn’t—I _wanted_ him, Pansy. I still do! But he—fuck! He doesn’t remember what happened. He thinks it was a dream.”

Draco felt Pansy’s fingers wrap around his wrist, yanking his hand away from his face. He met her glare, surprised to see so much fury radiating within her hazel eyes.

“ _How could he not remember_ ,” she hissed. “Are you telling me that you took from Potter without him realising?”

“I assumed he would remember!” he protested. “I was so desperate for him—and I thought he was too. He responded to me, Pansy, and I just lost myself in the moment—”

“Responded in a way a vampire’s prey might?” Pansy shook her head in disgust. “Draco, have you forgotten how easy it is for vampires to coerce humans?” She dropped his wrist and folded her arms across her chest. “So, you practically raped The-Boy-Who-Lived, who doesn’t even seem to be _aware_ of that fact, and now you’ve completely fucked up the one steady supply of blood you had. Congratulations, you fucking imbecile.” She breathed in through her nose deeply, nostrils flaring in anger. “You better fix this, Draco, or so help me. You fix it and you do it _right!_ ” She pointed an accusatory finger in his face. “Potter is your mate and he deserves better than this. He deserves the truth.”

“Don’t you think I know this?” He pushed his hands through his hair, fingers tightening in the blond strands.

“ _If_ you had known, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place,” Pansy snapped irritably. “You better pray to whoever is listening that Potter accepts this bond. To be perfectly honest, considering your _severe_ lack of judgement lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t.” She got to her feet, brushed down her robes and levelled a careful look at the vampire still kneeling on the carpet. “I’ve stood by you through a lot, Draco Malfoy, and I will continue to do so, but this has to be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done. How can you expect me to sit silently by should Potter reject you?”

“Guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when it comes to it,” the blond muttered.

Pansy exhaled in exasperation. “I am _so_ mad at you right now,” she stated. She unfolded her arms, raising her hand again to point at the dejected blond when she stopped, the hand dropping to her side. Instead, she crossed the room, heading for the door. Draco’s head turned around, brow furrowing.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

Pansy threw a sneer over her shoulder. “To go to talk to Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are love! ^_^


	5. Chapter 5

“Granger!”

Hermione paused, halfway up the stairs, and turned to the sound of her name. She watched as Parkinson hurried across the stone floor and the Gryffindor descended the stairs to meet her, ignoring the looks both Ron and Harry were no doubt sending her way.

“What’s wrong?” the bushy-haired female asked.

The dark haired Slytherin’s jaw clenched as she sent a quick glance in Harry’s direction before her eyes snapped back to Hermione’s face. “We need to talk,” she said shortly.

Understanding the hidden message, Hermione nodded. She threw a quick look over her shoulder, telling the boys to continue to class without her. Ron’s eyes narrowed only slightly but he nodded, gripping Harry’s arm and tugging the male away. Pansy had to keep her face carefully blank when Potter stared at her for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly before he allowed the Weasel to direct him up the stairs. Once the two male Gryffindors were out of sight, Pansy quirked her head to the side, indicating to Granger to follow. Hermione did so without question, already suspicious of what it was the Slytherin had to tell her. She followed Pansy to an empty classroom, waiting patiently until the door was locked and warded before speaking.

“What did he do,” she stated, sitting on the edge of a desk.

Sunlight filtered into the classroom. Everything suddenly seemed too bright—too exposed. Even though Granger shared their secret, Pansy felt uncomfortable divulging the truth behind what Draco had done. What if Granger flipped her lid? What if she turned on them? _What the hell would they do if Granger went to Dumbledore?_

“Pansy?”

The brunette blinked, focusing on Granger’s face.

“Whatever has happened I’m sure we can fix it,” the Gryffindor said carefully.

Pansy couldn’t help it. She snorted. “I look forward to seeing you eat those words,” she muttered. “Draco has—he’s done something remarkably stupid, Granger.”

The bushy-haired female remained quiet, watching Pansy as she crossed the room, coming to sit on the desk opposite. Pansy found herself glaring at the wooden floor, wondering how on earth she was going to word Draco’s fuck-up to the Golden Boy’s best friend.

“Does it have something to do with Harry?” Hermione found herself asking, breaking the silence.

Pansy laughed mockingly. “When does it _not_ involve Potter?” She exhaled heavily, sweeping her hands over her hair in an agitated and very un-Pansy like manner. With a groan, the truth slipped from her lips.

“Draco’s initiated the bond.”

Granger stared. “With Harry,” she stated.

Pansy nodded.

The bushy-haired Gryffindor suddenly frowned. “But Harry—”

“Has no fucking idea,” the other female finished, holding Granger’s gaze determinedly. “Draco apparently accosted him an evening about a week or so ago. He assumed that Potter would remember—it did not occur to him that perhaps his vampire charm would affect his potential blood-mate.”

Pansy could almost see the cogs whirling in the muggleborn’s mind. Realisation and understanding swept across Granger’s face as the female made connections to the clues that had been hiding in plain sight.

“ _That_ was why he looked so awful the next day,” she murmured, frowning at a particularly knotted floorboard. “If only I had known. I could have slipped him a blood replenishing potion.”

Pansy stared at the Gryffindor with mild repugnance. “I think you may be missing a crucial point here, Granger,” she remarked, annoyed. “Perhaps the fact that Draco ignorantly raped his mate and that Potter is going to kill him once he finds out? Or _maybe_ that Draco can no longer take from anyone’s vein except from the very person who is not going to want to be anywhere _near_ him once he learns the truth?” She could feel frustrated tears prickling at her hazel eyes and she roughly turned her head away, sucking in breaths as she waited for Granger to finally, _finally_ realise how fucked they were.

“Pansy,” the female began gently, “it’s going to be alright. Look, there’s no point in either of us getting worked up about this. Yes, Draco has messed up, but we’re not going to know if it can be fixed until we try, okay?”

“Merlin, if I were Potter I’d never want to look in Draco’s direction ever again,” Pansy muttered. “How many times did we tell him to be honest? How many times did we tell him to stop _deluding_ himself!”

“Too many times,” Granger agreed knowingly. “However this was bound to happen and deep down we both knew it. Now we need to take the right steps in ensure both Harry and Draco’s wellbeing. I’ll speak with Harry, see if I can’t push him a little in Malfoy’s direction. You need to make sure Malfoy is the one to talk to him—it’s time he knew the truth and Malfoy _must_ be the one to tell him.”

“You’re not going to tell Potter about Draco yourself?” Pansy found herself asking.

Granger shook her head. “The truth needs to come from Malfoy, especially after what has occurred. Coming from anyone else will make Harry distrust Draco and, more than likely, cause the bond to be severed completely.”

The Slytherin nodded in reluctant agreement. With a gentle sigh, Pansy met Granger’s gaze and held it. “Thank you for not losing your shit over this.”

Hermione smiled blandly. “You were distressed, Pansy, I wasn’t about to make it worse by overreacting. Don’t think, however, that I haven’t already started planning on the ways I will be hexing some sense into your best friend.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” The Slytherin sniffed.  “Thank you, Granger.”

* * *

 

Pansy was not surprised to see Draco in a slumped form on his bed when she returned. He was curled up against the headboard, long legs bent and held against his chest, blond head bowed and forehead resting on his knees. She bit back the well of sympathy she felt at the sight of his defeated appearance and instead plastered an expression of impassive indifference on her face. At her approach, Draco lifted his head. His eyes were dimmed, containing nothing of the glorious sheen they had once possessed only hours before.

“Granger suggested,” Pansy began, “and I agree, that you need to be the one to talk to Potter. The truth coming from anyone else will seem suspicious and, honestly, just disgraceful.” She lowered herself on the edge of the bed beside the blond. “This probably won’t go extremely well but at least Potter will know, and you can start working on his forgiveness.”

Draco’s eyes slid closed but he nodded just the same.

“I realise you’re probably feeling rather wretched right now,” the brunette continued, softening her tone slightly. “But I’m afraid there is nothing else for you to do but own up to what you’ve done and deal with it.”

Draco huffed, tightening his grip around his legs.

“…and Granger may or may not be getting ready to hex you.”

Draco groaned. “Of course she is,” he muttered. “Alright, _fine_. I’ll fix this.” He closed his eyes and leant his head back, the wood of his headboard pressing against his skull. “Harry is going to loathe me, I just know it.”

“Yeah, he probably will,” Pansy agreed. “But hopefully only for a little while.”

Draco barely had the energy to hum in agreement. The voice in his head telling him to do whatever it took to ensure Harry continued to like him had tormented him the entire time Pansy had been speaking with Granger. All Draco longed to do was embrace his mate, to make Harry _his._ And now he had most likely completely destroyed that chance.

But Pansy was right. There was no way Draco could continue to delude Harry any longer. His mate deserved the truth and the blond could only hope that the Gryffindor would be able to be won around.

* * *

 

Harry stared at his breakfast with minimal excitement.

He had barely slept a wink the past two weeks. Every night had been the same; nightly visions plagued with fiery touches and whispered words. A shiver coursed through him. Memories of that night—no, wait, memories of the _dream_ Harry had had flitted through his mind again. Once more the brunet could feel the burning touch of the Slytherin, his fingers gliding sensually up his neck, his teeth grazing his skin while a firm grasp encircled his throbbing cock, sharp pinpricks pressing into the side of his throat—

“Mate?”

Harry jerked, knocking over his goblet of pumpkin juice. Ron snorted with laughter as he watched his best friend pull out his wand to clear the mess, his cheeks stained with a red flush. With a grin, the red-head dropped into his seat beside Harry, snickering.

“A little jumpy this morning aren’t we, mate?” he smirked, reaching for his own glass.

“Shut up,” Harry groaned, tucking his wand away and rubbing a hand over his flaming face. A spot on the side of his neck began to tingle, the same spot that Harry could still feel the two pinpricks from his dream. “You just startled me is all…”

“Uh huh,” Ron replied, unconvinced.

Harry reached up absently to rub at the spot as the prickle grew stronger. His fingers had just brushed over the sensitive skin when a familiar voice drifted over his ears.

“Potter, do you have a moment?”

Looking up, Harry’s eyebrows rose at the sight of Draco Malfoy standing beside the Gryffindor table. The blond pointedly ignored the suspicious and annoyed looks he was receiving and simply gazed at Harry, grey eyes unusually soft. Harry found himself nodding jerkily, squashing down the sudden flare of heat that ignited within him.

“I’ll see you in class, yeah?” Harry said, glancing at Ron as he got to his feet.

Smothering a knowing look, Ron nodded. Harry swung his bag onto his shoulder and left the Great Hall with the Slytherin, wondering what it was that Malfoy needed to speak to him about. They could barely call each other friends. Hell, they had really only started acknowledging each other properly a week and a bit ago. A faint frown tugged at Harry’s eyebrows as he followed Malfoy down a deserted and barely used corridor. Evidently, whatever it was that Malfoy wanted to talk to him about it was apparent that he did not wish for others to overheard them.

 _Hmm_.

The brunet stopped when the blond did, his eyes darting up to Malfoy’s face to gauge his expression. His mask was firmly in place as he returned Harry’s probing stare impassively. Harry quirked an eyebrow in a silent request. Finally, ever so slowly, Malfoy’s face began to relax, a hint of unease colouring his eyes.

“There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have done a while ago,” he admitted, swallowing tightly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his mate; couldn’t bear to see the way those gleaming green eyes would soon surge with anger.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Draco’s heart thumped painfully as Harry’s genuine concern washed over him like a gentle warm wave. He couldn’t help but relish in the moment, knowing that in a mere moment he would be overwhelmed by the Gryffindor’s fury.

“Listen, this is going to sound ludicrous but just—just bear with me, alright?”

Harry’s frown deepened and he stared at Draco warily, the worst possible scenario unexpectedly filling his head. “You’re not dying or something, are you? Is that why you decided to finally try and befriend me?” he blurted.

Draco’s trepidation at his mate’s approaching fury melted away briefly into mild amusement and a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head.

“No, don’t be daft, Potter,” he replied.

“Oh.” Harry tilted his head to the side. “So…?”

The amusement immediately drained away and Draco scrambled for some semblance of bravery. He drew in a silent breath.

“Potter, I’m a vampire.”

Silence filled the corridor.

Dark eyebrows shot up to Harry’s hairline as he stared at the Slytherin incredulously. The blond held his gaze, heat thudding in his chest.

“Yeah, good one,” the Gryffindor finally uttered, crossing his arms against his chest. “Draco Malfoy a fucking vampire. Sure.”

“It’s true,” Draco pressed, regardless of the anger he could feel whirling within his mate. “I was turned during the summer holidays—”

Harry stepped away in disgust, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fuck off, Malfoy. Don’t pull this shit with me.”

Draco sighed. “I’m being serious.”

“I _bet_ you are,” Harry abruptly snarled, eyes flashing. “God, for a moment there, I thought you might actually be able to be a decent human being—”

“ _Damn_ _it_ , Potter,” Draco hissed, eyes narrowing vehemently.

The way Malfoy’s face instantly transformed startled Harry slightly. Suddenly, eerily, Harry almost believed what Malfoy was telling him; no human could possibly look that menacing. Noticing Potter’s discomfort, Draco calmed himself, his face relaxing into a gentler expression.

“I’m telling you the truth.” Malfoy’s voice was barely a murmur, but he made sure he held Potter’s gaze as he spoke. “Why on earth would I make up a story like this—to you of all people?”

“To fuck me around?” Harry suggested. His tone however, was anything than convinced of his belief of his words. He shrugged offhandedly, glancing down the corridor as his tried to think of something, _anything_ to dissuade Malfoy’s words.

“You know it to be true,” the blond murmured, keeping his gaze steadily on Harry’s face. “Ever since the first day we returned to Hogwarts, you knew there was something different about me. You couldn’t help yourself, could you, Harry? Noticing the differences, the small changes that no one else seemed to recognise. _You_ did though.”

“How do you know I did?” Harry’s eyes snapped back to the Slytherin’s face.

A smirk curled at Malfoy’s lips. “You’re not very subtle when it comes to staring at people, Harry.”

Staring at the blond, the Gryffindor began to shake his head. “No, this can’t—this is _insane_ ,” he denied.

“Insane it may be, but that does not mean it is false,” Malfoy stated tightly.

Harry’s emotions were a whirlwind of confusion, anger, disbelief, and resentful acceptance. Suddenly, his green eyes widened, his mind reeling back to the day when Malfoy would not leave him be.

“That’s why you didn’t follow me outside,” he breathed, staring at the male in horror. “And why… why you quit quidditch.”

Jaw clenching at the mention of his once favourite sport, Draco inclined his head.

“But—” Harry swung his head around, eyeing the sunlight that poured in through the windows nearby.

“Charms,” Malfoy offered, sensing the Gryffindor’s confusion, “I apply charms on my skin daily. They work well enough if I am in the castle but they do not provide me protection from direct sunlight.”

Harry stared at the blond curiously. It wasn’t until he had gotten close to Malfoy did he begin to _really_ notice the subtle differences. His skin was paler, smoother. His eyes, which had always been a striking feature of the blond’s appearance, were brighter, a sharpness within them that told Harry Malfoy’s vision had improved dramatically; Harry felt almost exposed beneath his stare.

“But _how?_ ” Harry blurted. “You haven’t always been a vampire… have you?”

There was an air of exhaustion around Malfoy as he watched the brunet. Slowly, he shook his head. “No, I have not always been a vampire. I was turned over the holidays.”

“I don’t understand why I need to know this,” Harry found himself saying. “Why has this _anything_ to do with _me?_ ”

Draco’s jaw clenched once more as another truth reared its ugly head. “It appears—” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “it appears you are the one I am attracted to. As such, it is your blood that I now require. This is the reason behind my… determination to befriend you.”

Harry felt a shiver pass through him, the same spot on his neck tingling. “Why me?” he repeated with a frown. “Why not… Parkinson?”

“Don’t you think I would if I could, Potter?” He seemed weary, as if the truth pained him to admit. “Pansy and I did, in fact, have an understanding, until I went and ruined it.”

“Er—ruined how?”

Malfoy suddenly stiffened, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Something on the blond’s face sent Harry’s mind whirling into motion, recognition dawning on his face as memories of his supposed dream flooded back. “That night…” he began.

Malfoy looked suddenly uncomfortable, a faint tinge of red appearing on his cheeks. Observing his reaction, Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Oh my god.”

Harry stared. Malfoy looked away.

“Oh my _god!_ ”

The brunet choked a derisive laugh as he turned away, needed to look at anything besides the Slytherin.

“I thought it was some twisted dream!” Harry continued, voice coloured with distraught. “But you—oh my god…” He turned back to Malfoy who was watching him carefully. Harry couldn’t hide the distress from his face even if he wanted to. “You _took_ my _blood?_ ”

The Slytherin visibly sighed. “Harry...” he began, stepping towards the brunet.

“Don’t!” Harry shouted, backing away. “Don’t you come near me, Malfoy, or I swear—”

“You’ll what?” Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me you didn’t like what I did, Harry.”

The brunet shivered. “Stop saying my name. And no—I didn’t.”

The Slytherin actually laughed, stepping closer to Harry who backed away once more.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how you _begged_ me, Harry,” Malfoy hissed gleefully. “Begged me to finish you…”

“Fuck _off_ , Malfoy!” Harry’s breaths were coming out in panicked pants, his terror spiking when he felt his back press up against the cool stone of the wall.

“Your body betrays you,” the Slytherin murmured with a smirk. “Despite it all… you crave me.”

“I _don’t_ ,” Harry spat.

“Do not lie to me!” Draco abruptly snarled. “Even now I can sense your desire. Do not stand before me and tell me _feel nothing_.”

The brunet stared at the blond, denial on the top of his tongue. How could he though, when even _he_ couldn’t ignore the mixture of fear, anger, and lust that was a whirlwind inside his chest. Malfoy was right, Harry _did_ desire him… but how much of that was the vampiric compulsion? It was no secret that vampires were skilled at luring their prey whenever they so wished. Had Malfoy been compelling Harry all this time?

The Gryffindor tried to swallow, his throat clenched with growing apprehension.

“I don’t want this,” he managed to whisper. Something sharp shot across his chest as he watched the way Malfoy suddenly recoiled from him, disbelief etched on the Slytherin’s face.

“ _As you wish_ ,” Malfoy hissed, turning away from the dark-haired male.

All the breath seemed to expel from Harry’s lungs, staring as Malfoy stalked away. His heart was absolutely thundering; it had taken his entire strength of will to utter those words.

* * *

 

“Harry? What’s wrong? You weren’t in class.”

Hermione’s worried voice greeted Harry as she and Ron stepped into the boys’ dormitory. Harry, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, forced his gaze up from his steadfast glare on the carpet, staring at his friends with a sudden surge of trepidation.

“Mate?” Ron frowned in concern. He and the bushy-haired Gryffindor crossed the room immediately, coming to sit beside Harry on the bed. “Did Malfoy upset you?” he growled.

Beside him, Hermione bit her lip, her eyes trained on Harry. The brunet pushed a hand through his hair, his fingers tightening within the strands briefly before he allowed his arm to drop into his lap.

“I guess you could say that,” he muttered finally, glancing at his friends.

“What did he say?” Hermione asked then, voice low and direct.

A snort escaped the dark-haired Gryffindor. “God, you’re not even going to _believe_ what he said to me.”

“Try us,” Hermione prompted. “Ron and I are pretty open-minded, aren’t we, Ron?” She glared at the red-head whose eyebrows rose at the expression on the female’s face.

“Er, yeah of course,” he agreed, slightly bewildered.

Harry laughed bitterly, hardly believing the words he was about to admit to his best friends. “Turns out, Malfoy is—” Harry struggled. Try as he might he could just not bring himself to utter that final word. “That he— _fuck_.” He buried his face in his hands. “This entire thing is just so stupid. Part of me still doesn’t even _believe_ him.”

“Believe him about what?” Ron frowned. “Come on, mate, it can’t be that bad.”

Harry groaned, shaking his head. “Just you wait.” He sucked in a breath, lowering his hands. “Malfoy is a vampire.”

Ron choked on his laughter, eyes wide as he stared. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Ron, _Malfoy is a fucking vampire_ ,” Harry said again, more forcibly this time. “ _That’s_ why he’s trying to be all friendly with me. Apparently, I’m who he craves or whatever.”

But Ron was already shaking his head. “No, no, no, this doesn’t make sense,” he babbled. “How the hell could Malfoy be a vampire?”

“He just is.”

“What the fuck! Since when?” Ron suddenly roared, jumping to his feet to stare at his best mate. Harry shrugged miserably.

“Over the summer apparently,” he admitted.

“How the hell did it happen?” Ron demanded.

Harry shrugged again. “Didn’t really want to stick around to hear the story to be honest.” Beside him, he heard Hermione sigh and he felt a warm hand come to rest on his arm.

“Voldemort ordered it,” she murmured.

Harry froze. Ron gaped.

Slowly, the two males turned to stare at Hermione who held their gaze, brown eyes steady. Her fingers tightened their grasp on his arm, her thumb stroking soothingly. “Look,” she began, “I told Malfoy—”

“Y-You _knew?_ ” Harry spluttered, the knowledge hitting him like a sledgehammer. “You knew about him and you never said a word?!”

The female winced and was not at all surprised when Harry wrenched his arm out of her grasp.

“Yes,” she murmured. “I knew.” She watched Harry storm to his feet, his face darkening when he turned to glare at her. “Harry, please, I—”

“And on top of that you were happy to push Malfoy and me together!” Harry stared at the female, betrayal and shock evident on his face. “Oh god, Hermione… how could you do this to me?”

Agony swept over the brunette’s face. “Harry, you don’t fully understand!” She pressed desperately. “Yes, I knew about Malfoy; he asked for my help you see.”

“Then why didn’t you _tell me?_ ”

“Because, I—” Words seem to fail Hermione momentarily as she gazed imploringly at the dark-haired male. “It all happened so quickly. Neither of us knew what to expect when he returned to school. When he—when he reacted to you, he was so determined at first to ignore the compulsion of the bond I didn’t think it mattered,” she finished lamely. “He didn’t want anyone to know, especially that you might possibly be his blood-mate.”

Harry snorted. “So instead of perhaps warning me then, you decided to let it play out and see how it went. Yeah, _wonderful_ idea, Hermione, truly tops.” He shook his head in disgust. “I get that there was probably still no need to really spill the beans since Malfoy wanted nothing to do with me, but the thing is Hermione, he _changed his mind_. And you _knew_. You knew what I was to him… and you just _let it happen_.” Harry could feel himself shaking. Malfoy had taken his blood! And—and _touched him_. And Harry had been unaware of the possible danger. There had been no way for him to even suspect a possibility of this magnitude and so his suspicion of the Slytherin had been minimal. Malfoy had taken advantage of him… and Hermione had done nothing to prevent that.

He turned pained eyes in her direction. She stared back at him earnestly.

“Come on, it’s really not that bad—”

“Not that _bad?_ ” Harry spat, cutting her off. “Hermione, he—he—” but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. The brunette had no idea what had actually occurred between the two them and Harry wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted her to know. Nausea swirled in his stomach. God, all those times the memories of his apparent dream had swarmed him, warmed him, made him crave something he’d imagined had been out of reach…

 _And it had been real._ Malfoy had touched him so intimately. Had taken his _blood_ —

“Harry, just—” Hermione took a step towards him when a figure suddenly blocked her way. She blinked in surprise, staring up into Ron’s face. He stood in front of Harry protectively, frowning at the female.

“Leave him alone, Hermione,” Ron stated. “Harry is well within his rights to be mad at you right now, and you deserve it.”

Hermione flinched involuntarily, biting her lip.

“It’s not so much the fact that you hid Malfoy’s secret,” Ron continued blandly, “Harry and I can understand loyalty—such as it is. The issue here, Hermione, is that you’ve been trying to push Malfoy and Harry together knowing full well that Harry had no idea what Malfoy was. If this stupid bond was so important to the two of you, you would have made the effort to explain the situation, not hide behind lies and hope that everything would work out.” He frowned at Hermione, disappointment swirling within him. “How could you do this to your best friend, Hermione? This is Harry’s _life_ for fuck’s sake. I think he is entitled in how it plays out.”

“The sad part is,” Harry suddenly choked, cutting Ron off, “was that I really did begin to have feelings for him.” He shook his head once more, a derisive laugh slipping passed his lips. “But now how do I even know if what I feel for him is _me_ or what the _bond_ wants me to feel?”

Tears were welling in Hermione’s eyes and as she blinked they trickled down her cheeks. “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—oh god, I didn’t mean to hurt you like this. I just wanted you to be happy…”

Harry could only shake his head, throat burning with unshed sobs. He turned away from the female and made his way to the door. Hermione jerked forwards to stop him.

“Wait, Harry, please! This can still be fixed. I can—” her voiced faltered again as Ron stepped into her path once more, allowing the brunet the chance to exit the room.

“You’ve done enough,” he uttered as the door slammed shut. “If you really want to help Harry, you’ll leave him alone. Whether you like it or not, Hermione, your actions have caused this.”

“But—”

“You’re just as much in the wrong as Malfoy is, the way I see it,” Ron interrupted briskly.

“Ron, please, I was only doing what I thought would make Harry happy. Even you can’t deny how much he desired Malfoy, even _before_ all of this happened.”

“That doesn’t make this okay!” Ron suddenly roared and Hermione shrank back, eyes filling with tears once more. “That doesn’t give you the right to mess around with Harry’s life. Just because Harry _did_ have a thing for Malfoy doesn’t make it alright for you to secretly push them together. Harry had _every right_ to know what he was getting into with this bond business. You can’t just _make_ these decisions for him, Hermione!”

The female hung her head a sniffed. “I know,” she whispered. “It was stupid of me to even try…” She wiped away at her face, brushing away the tears that lined her cheeks. “There’s no excuse, I can see that. I just—I just wanted—”

“Look, we get it, alright?” Ron interrupted, shoving a hand though his flaming hair in agitation. “But put yourself in Harry’s shoes for just a moment. For the past month all you’ve done is try and convince Harry that Malfoy was half decent. That wouldn’t have been so bad if you weren’t hiding the fact that Malfoy was a fucking vampire. Bond or no bond, Harry has a choice as to whether he wants to accept this. Instead, you manipulated his perception in the hopes that he would accept the slimy git.” He shook his head, gazing at Hermione in disappointment. “You’ve given Harry very little to consider now. How can you honestly expect him to make a balanced decision now that his best friend has inadvertently betrayed him?”

With those finals words, Ron brushed passed the silently weeping girl. Hermione stared after him, knowing full well she deserved the guilt she could feel swirling inside. She watched, miserable, as Ron left the dormitory without so much as a glance back.

* * *

 

Draco stumbled, another wave of agony surging through him. He winced, rubbing his sternum tenderly as the emotions of his mate tore mercilessly at his chest. Leaning against the cool of wall of the dungeon corridor, the blond could do nothing but wait until this particular wave of Harry’s emotions subsided. For the past half an hour Draco had been swarmed with his mate’s feelings, all of them unpleasant. He did not know exactly what had happened but judging from the vast range of agitated emotions, Draco was positive it had had something to do with him.

He couldn’t believe he had been so crass.

A part of him couldn’t even be upset about his mate’s rejection. How could Draco honestly expected Harry to accept him after what he’d done? Not only lying about his true nature but to abuse Harry’s trust like that…

Swallowing, the blond closed his eyes, relieved as Harry’s emotions began to calm, draining into a simmer. He expelled a sigh and pushed up off the cold stone wall, straightening his robes absently. He could only pray that Harry would give him the chance to fix this—to make things right. And with two weeks already passed, it wouldn’t be long now until Draco would be fighting the urge to feed from Harry again.

He how no clue what the hell he was going to do if his mate refused him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!! :D


	6. Chapter 6

“Don’t leave my side, okay?”

Ron sighed. “Mate…”

“Just—please? I really don’t want to be alone if I run into Malfoy.”

Harry’s green eyes were desperate as they gazed pleadingly at the red-head. Ron couldn’t help but groan and nod at the male sitting so dejectedly on the edge of the bed.

“ _Alright_ I promise to stick by you, alright?” Shaking his head, the male reached forward and clasped Harry’s shoulder, gripping it firmly. “But, mate, you do realise that you can’t just ignore this. Regardless of what’s happened, you’re still Malfoy’s blood-mate, and you’re going to have to make a decision sooner or later.”

Harry slumped in his grasp. “I know,” he murmured to the floor. _But how can I make an honest decision after everything that has happened…? If Malfoy had been fucking honest with me from the get go—_

“I know there’s something you’re not telling me,” Ron continued calmly, breaking Harry’s thoughts and squeezing his shoulder again. “But promise me you’ll seriously think about this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled.

“It’s been two weeks of us ducking down corridors and walking with the map out just so you won’t run into the git,” Ron pointed out. “Do you really think you can keep this up for the rest of the school year?”

Harry rubbed his arm awkwardly. “Well, maybe not the _entire_ year…” He frowned. _How will I be able to stand by knowing it’s my blood and mine alone that Malfoy is able to drink…?_

Blinking, Harry realised his freckled best friend was frowning faintly at him.

“What?” he asked blankly.

“Did Malfoy happen to tell you who he is feeding from?” Ron asked.

Shifting uneasily on the bed, the brunet bit his lip. “He said Parkinson had been his donor. But he—he also said he can’t drink from her anymore.”

Ron’s gaze grew steadily more concerned as he stared at Harry, who felt uncomfortably exposed beneath his gaze.

“What do you mean?” he asked finally.

Harry swallowed. His heart had begun to thunder in his chest from the penetrating scrutiny Ron was now holding him under.

“What is it you’re not telling me, mate?” Ron pressed.

“Aside from my uncertainty about dating a vampire?” Harry found himself saying before he could stop himself. He wasn’t surprised when Ron rolled his eyes.

“No, you prat,” the red-head said. “Come on, you can trust me. I mean, it’s not like Malfoy’s initiated the bond with you yet, but it’s weird that he—”

“He has,” Harry interrupted quietly, staring at the floor. He sensed Ron go still.

“What?”

Harry lifted his head. “A dream I thought I’d had weeks ago turned out to be true.” His voice was barely a murmur, afraid to be overheard despite their dormitory being empty aside from the two of them. “Malfoy’s taken my blood already, Ron. I didn’t even know until that morning when he asked if we could talk.”

The pink blotches on Ron’s cheeks, which had appeared not long after Harry’s confession, suddenly spread across his skin, colouring his entire face an ugly shade of red. “He took your blood _without you even knowing?_ ” he choked out.

“Um… sort of?” Harry’s face was burning with embarrassment as he forced himself to continue speaking. “But I—in the dream—well what _I thought_ was a dream—I was… enjoying it…”

“ _Harry_.” Ron’s voice was shaking slightly and the brunet stared up at him in surprise, not realising until he was gazing at his best friend the sheer amount of anger radiating from the red-head. “You didn’t even know Malfoy was a damned _vampire_ until that morning! You’re telling me that he took your blood despite you being unaware of his change? How can you be sure if the enjoyment you felt during whatever the hell happened between the two of you was strengthened because you _did_ think it was a dream? Let alone the power vampires can have over humans and the like!”

Harry swallowed, lowering his gaze to stare at the ground. “I know, Ron,” he whispered. “I know all of this. Why do you think I’ve wanted to avoid Malfoy? I’m still trying to work out whether what I feel for him is actually me… or the bond.”

The anger seemed to seep out of Ron as the red-head watched the defeated slump his best friend fell into. With a sigh, Ron came to sit by the brunet on the bed, knocking Harry’s shoulder with his own.

“Look, I’m sorry for getting all worked up,” he began once Harry had lifted his head to look at him, “Malfoy might not even know what the fuck he’s doing since this change is so recent. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if the bloody prat is just winging it.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he said nothing about it,” Harry muttered bitterly.

“Of course not.” The red-head scowled. “You can be damned sure I’m going to have some words to the Ferret. Probably a hex or two while I’m at it.”

Harry smiled weakly, glancing at his watch. Breakfast was almost over and Ron, bless him, hadn’t complained once about not getting any food. Ron’s unwavering support these past few weeks, even with the argument with Hermione, had been such a welcome relief. The strain of constant exhausting emotions was wearing thin on Harry’s patience and energy, but Ron, as a persistent presence of strength and unquestioning support, made the entire situation bearable.

“So since neither of us really know where to go from here, we should probably do some research,” Ron announced, tapping a finger against his lips thoughtfully. His freckled face brightened slightly. “I know we’re angry with Hermione right now but I think it would be best to talk to her about some stuff. Knowing her, she’s probably got a bunch of encyclopedias on vampires. Plus, she should be able to tell you more details about Malfoy.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry replied.

“Don’t worry, mate, we’ll work this out,” Ron promised, smiling gently.

* * *

 

Hermione’s eyes swept the library, gaze hopeful that she would spot her two best friends sitting at a table. When no familiar dark or red head appeared, she sighed but continued further inside, following the familiar pathway to the secluded table she, Parkinson, and Malfoy preferred. The smell of old books soothed her as she swept down the hallways of shadowed bookshelves; the past two weeks had been tiring to say the least. What with both Harry and Ron ignoring her, Hermione was no closer to being able to properly apologise to the brunet, let alone find out where he stood on the matter of Malfoy being his blood-mate. It had been almost four weeks since Draco had taken Harry’s vein—it wouldn’t be long before it began to take its toll on the vampire.

“Granger, over here.”

Hermione turned at the familiar voice, her eyes falling on the two Slytherin’s sitting at a desk tucked away in the furthest corner of the library. She immediately focused on the blond, heart sinking at Malfoy’s ragged appearance.

_Good lord he looks awful…_

Malfoy’s skin had taken on a grey pallor, eyes dark and shadowed. He appeared thinner and exhausted, his body no longer portrayed the strength she had been used to seeing. Hermione noticed he kept his pale lips pressed firmly together and she suspected that his fangs were now permanently elongated, evidence of his hunger.

“So, Granger, what’s the latest as far as the Golden Boy is concerned?” Pansy asked as the Gryffindor neared, taking a seat opposite them.

The female winced, dropping her gaze. “Harry is upset with me,” Hermione admitted, staring at the table top. “So I don’t… I’m not sure what his decision will be. He hasn’t spoken to me for two weeks.”

Pansy stared at the Gryffindor. “What in Salazar’s name did you _do?_ ” she asked incredulously.

The bushy-brunette’s cheeks reddened. She lifted her stare warily, glancing between the two of them. “I admitted that I’d known about this since the beginning. Harry was… less than pleased that I’d hidden everything from him. I can’t really blame him, honestly. It’s not as if we gave him much choice in the matter.”

Malfoy grimaced but otherwise did not say a word. Beside him, Pansy pursed her lips, staring at the Gryffindor with a faint frown.

“No, I can’t say we did,” she agreed. “But staying back and not facing this problem face on is not going to help.” She released a small sigh, glancing to the blond. “It’s obvious Potter is avoiding Draco,” Pansy commented. “He keeps Weasley so tightly by his side they’re practically joined at the hip.” Without looking, the brunette could tell that Draco’s upper lip had begun to curl into a snarl. With a sigh she leant to the side, placing a soothing hand on his arm.

“Relax,” she murmured. “You know I didn’t mean anything by that. There is nothing going on between Potter and Weasley, you _know_ this.”

Draco did not look any less pleased at this announcement but he forced himself to relax all the same. Hermione felt concern well up within her. Malfoy looked like he was ready to snap at any given moment; an elastic band pulled to its limits. If they didn’t do something soon, there was a very good chance the vampire could lose himself completely.

* * *

 

Students were filing out of Professor McGonagall’s class, thoroughly looking forward to the prospect of relaxing for an hour before dinner. It had been a long day and Harry could feel the exhaustion of the study work-load tensing his shoulder muscles as he lifted his bag. Beside him, Ron was glowering as he shoved his wand and bits of parchment into his own bag.

“I’ll have to catch up to you,” he grumbled, throwing a dark look over his shoulder at McGonagall.

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked. “Well you _did_ float Seamus’s badger around the room when he tried to transfigure the thing.”

“He was making fun of my quidditch skills!”

Harry cracked a grin, laughing at the memory of Ron getting smacked upside the head by the quaffle because he had been too busy arguing with one of the beaters about proper form. Of course, that had been the quidditch practice both Dean and Seamus had decided to watch.

“Besides, McGonagall only saw it because Lavender accidently set the edge of her table on fire,” the red-head continued to snipe. “Was just a bit of fun…”

Harry snorted with laughter. “Mate, I think she would have seen the flying badger regardless.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in the common room yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ron sighed. “What’s the bet she gives me a detention right before our quidditch match.”

Harry left his friend to face McGonagall alone, following the stragglers out of the Transfiguration classroom and into the corridor. He looked around, hoping to see Seamus, Dean, or Neville who he could walk back to Gryffindor Tower with but they all seemed to have escaped early; the corridor was empty of any Gryffindors.

Still, with Malfoy currently nowhere in sight, the chance of bumping into him as Harry returned to his dormitory _was_ pretty minimal. With that thought held securely in Harry’s wishful mind, he began his way back to his room.

* * *

 

Sweeping through the corridors, there was only one thing that was on Draco’s mind right now: how desperately he needed to talk to Harry. The hunger had grown to such a peak the blond felt physically shaken. His body refused to obey even the simplest of commands, especially if his mate was particularly close, and he had become overrun with an exhaustion so intense he could barely function.

Draco took a moment to pause, leaning heavily against the wall of the corridor. The hunger that tore within him had begun to ache, his craving for his mate growing with each passing second. He couldn’t fight the compulsion anymore; staying away from Harry was killing him.

_He had to make Harry understand…_

With a groan, Draco shoved himself up off the wall and forced himself to walk, drawn instinctively through the castle to where his mate would be. His mate’s emotions were complacent at the moment and Draco couldn’t help but relish in the lack of burning anger and repulsion he normally felt flowing from Harry. These past two weeks in particular had been the most torturous. His growing hunger fuelled his need to be close to his mate… but with the overwhelming confusion and repugnance flowing from Harry in cascades he dared not approach lest he push the brunet further away.

Harry’s emotions were growing stronger, and Draco knew he that his mate was not far now. He turned a corner and his breath caught in his throat, body going eerily still. There, just ahead of him, was his mate.

And he was _alone_.

In a great rush, Draco felt his hunger surge, throat parch dry as he gazed achingly after the dark-haired boy. Merlin, Harry’s delectable scent seemed to fill the entire corridor, calling to Draco in such a way he could feel every cell within his being crying out, screaming for the male just beyond his reach. He allowed his eyes to close, body trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

 _I need him so badly…_ he thought desperately, his gaze returning to the figure of his mate. _He’s mine… he belongs to me…!_

His fangs throbbed. His body hummed.

_I refuse to wait any longer…_

* * *

 

Harry turned with a faint frown. The footsteps he’d thought he had heard proved non-existent when the corridor remained empty. Only the distant voices of passing students along perpendicular hallways reached his ears and he turned back with a shrug.

And came face to face with Malfoy.

Harry leapt back in surprise, a choked gasp escaping his mouth as he gawked at the Slytherin in shock. His feet moved backwards until he felt his back press up against the cold stones of the corridor wall, terror spiking as he took in the blond’s startling appearance. Malfoy’s eyes were ablaze, glowing eerily as he stared hungrily at the Gryffindor. His fangs were lowered, giving him such a feral appearance Harry felt his heart skip a beat. They glinted in the firelight of the hanging wall torches, sleek and sharp and deadly.

“I will have you now, Harry,” Malfoy purred, a hint of desperation in his tone, “and you will not refuse me.”

Harry stared at the approaching vampire in horror, his throat tight and muscles unresponsive. Malfoy stepped towards him and Harry, whose back was already pressed firmly against the stonewall behind him, could only watch in fear as the Slytherin drew closer. He flinched away instinctively, a faint whimper falling from his lips as he screwed his eyes shut tightly, waiting for the searing pain. Lowering his head, Malfoy’s nose glided along the skin of Harry’s throat and he breathed deeply.

_Mmm… mine…_

As the scent of his mate hit his nose, Draco’s head suddenly snapped back. He turned incredulous eyes to Harry’s face which was turned away, his eyes shut tight and entire body trembling.

Draco felt his heart plummet.

Harry was _petrified_ of him; there was no denying the twisted stench of fear and resignation that fell from the Gryffindor in great bursts. The usual hint of lust and excitement that the blond had once smelt in Harry was no longer present. Instead a gruesome combination of burning terror and sickening submission streamed through his nose like rancid smoke.

 _Are you happy now…?_ the voice in his head hissed, _your mate is terrified of you… congratulations. You’ve become the monster you never wished to be…_

Slowly, Malfoy pulled away from the male before him, unable to bring himself to bite Harry no matter how desperate he was. Closing his eyes, Draco felt himself become overrun with a feeling of such rejection his chest felt like a gaping hole of nothingness. Throat aching, Draco forced himself to mutter words to his mate that he should have done so weeks ago.

“I… I’m sorry.”

The words were barely whispered and for a moment, Harry was sure the gentle murmur had been imagined. Slowly, ever so slowly, he parted his eyelids, a shaking breath escaping his throat as he saw Malfoy’s retreating back.

_The Slytherin was walking away._

With a shuddered breath, Harry allowed his body to fall limp against the cold stone wall. His legs were trembling with the effort of keeping him standing so he allowed himself to slide, falling down to the ground and drawing his knees to his chest. He sucked in a breath.

The look of agonising hunger that had been etched on Malfoy’s face had burned itself into Harry’s memory. Malfoy’s eyes had been so desperate, wracked with a longing so deep the image still took Harry’s breath away.

 _How was Malfoy able to walk away…?_ Harry thought wildly. _I thought the bond controlled him…?_

He stared unseeingly at the open corridor, thoughts and strange feelings swirling around within him. For so long, Harry had assumed that a bond between a vampire and their mate existed purely to bring them together—to provide a constant food source for the dark creature regardless of the mate’s wishes. After all, Malfoy had taken from Harry once before and he had done it so _easily_. There Harry had been, craving Malfoy’s touch, giving in readily to the Slytherin’s advancements, unknowing of Malfoy’s true form. _Unknowing_ of the bond forming between them, locking them both into a connection neither of them would be able to break. From that alone, it would have been obvious that the link between the two of them was what provoked these feelings within Harry and Malfoy, what made it so easy for them to suddenly become so combatable.

But this—Malfoy walking _away_ —

_What did it mean?_

Was the conception of the controlling nature of the bond simply that? An excuse for Harry to deny the feelings he was beginning to have for Malfoy?

_If the bond between them had truly only been formed that night… did that mean that everything Harry had feeling up until that point was his own…?_

With a shuddering realisation, everything Harry had denied was suddenly thrust into a frightening light. _If the blood-mate bond truly did control them both, then Malfoy should be all over me right now… right…?_ He thought distractedly.

God, his head was beginning to hurt.

He blinked slowly, brow crinkling as a confused frown appeared on his face. _If Malfoy could force himself away despite how desperate he’d appeared, does that mean he actually cares for my wellbeing…? Does Malfoy actually have_ feelings _for me?_

Harry swallowed, eyes widening slightly. He could no longer deny the moments in the past when he had found himself attracted to Malfoy, even before the Slytherin’s change. The blond had always been there, ensnaring Harry’s attention, making him feel things he’d rather not acknowledge…

“Oh hell,” the Gryffindor muttered, pressing his hands to his face. With a surge of energy, Harry found himself on his feet, gaze focused on the direction in which Malfoy had disappeared.

_I’m about to willingly go looking after a vampire. A fucking vampire I actually have feelings for. Harry, what even…_

With a snort, Harry stepped resolutely down the corridor, hoping that Malfoy wasn’t too far ahead. He reached a staircase, worrying his bottom lip as he tried to guess the direction in which Malfoy may have gone. Would he have continued down the corridor or descended the stairs?

Starting abruptly, he plunged his hand into his pocket, pulling out the Marauder’s Map with a satisfied huff. He pointed his wand, murmured, “ _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ ,” and waited for the ink to show Malfoy’s location. As the dot labelled “Draco Malfoy” appeared, Harry swung his gaze from the staircase to the darkening corridor and resumed walking, determination growing within his chest. Shadows lined the hallway, the torches spaced evenly down the stone walls providing the only light. He moved quickly, feeling his heart begin to pick up speed as his gaze finally landed on the familiar blond head of Draco Malfoy. The blond was leaning against the wood of a door at the very end of the corridor, his back to Harry and arms encircled around himself, clutching his upper arms.

Swallowing nervously, Harry called out. “Malfoy?”

The figure jolted.

With painful, controlled movements, Malfoy began to turn, his wide eyes falling onto the Gryffindor who paused a few steps away.

“H-Harry—what—you shouldn’t be here.” Malfoy groaned, his body trembling from the effort of holding back. “Please—just _go_.”

Harry frowned, taking a step closer. “But I want… I need to talk to you.”

“Harry, _please_ —” Malfoy swallowed thickly, backing away. “Please, it _hurts_.”

The brunet faltered, eyes widening. He’d been so concerned about his own fear he hadn’t even noticed how distraught Draco was. Malfoy was physically shaking, his hands gripping his upper arms so tightly Harry could see the indents of his fingers through his school robes. His lips were parted, the tips of his fangs glinting every time the blond drew a strangled breath. Pain was etched across his face as he forced himself away from his mate, pressing himself against the thick wooden door.

“Just… just go.” Draco winced, closing his eyes. “I can’t—” He swallowed back a moan. “ _I don’t want to hurt you_.”

Harry gaped at Malfoy, surprised when he felt waves of distress wash over him at the sight of the blond looking so pained. The vampire was so desperate for him… and he had _still_ managed to walk away. All because Harry had been frightened. If that didn’t show him how seriously Malfoy took this bond and his feelings… what did?

All of a sudden, Harry felt an exhaustion settle over his shoulders. He was tired of denying the way he felt. He was tired of fighting the attraction. If Harry was truly honest with himself, deep down he knew that the bond had never had any control over him. The longing he had felt for Malfoy had been entirely his own… and it was time to stop ignoring it.

The dark-haired male could barely feel his limbs as he took a step closer towards the trembling Slytherin. “It’s okay,” he whispered, eyes unwavering as he stared.

Malfoy’s head shot up, grey eyes so dark with longing they were almost black.

“What?” he rasped.

Harry stepped forward determinedly. “It’s okay,” he repeated. With slightly trembling fingers, he lifted his hands to his tie, loosening the knot and tugging the material away. He held Malfoy’s gaze as he did, watching as the vampire’s eyes followed his every movement. He couldn’t help but shiver at how hungry the intense silver eyes appeared, tracking each pull of the material with such burning desire it set Harry’s blood on fire. With one final tug, Harry removed the red and gold tie from around his neck and allowed it to drop to the floor in a silken puddle.

And inclined his head in silent permission.

With a strangled moan Draco lunged forwards, crushing Harry to his chest so quickly the Gryffindor barely had time to register the movement before long strong fingers were delving into his hair, tugging his head to the side. He felt the top button of his school shirt pop from its hole, and a split second was all it took before sharp pinpricks were burning into Harry’s skin, a keening gasp catching in his throat as Malfoy’s fangs sank deep into the side of his neck. Harry’s own hands scrambled up the Slytherin’s back, fingers twisting in the material of Malfoy’s robes and clenching tightly with each pull on the small wounds.

The vampire had been so desperate, so _frantic_ for his mate, that Harry had expected nothing but brute force. When Malfoy’s arms cradled Harry so tenderly however, his surprise gave way to a surge of arousal. He felt his body grow hot, his heart thundering in his chest as he felt Malfoy’s lips move against his skin. A moan boiled up inside Harry’s throat, his eyes rolling back as waves of pure pleasure coursed through him. It took him a moment to realise the harsh pants he could hear were _his_ and it shocked him at how fervent he sounded.

 _What was so bad about this again…?_ He thought dazedly. The memories of their previous encounter solidified in his mind—all of sudden he could recall with explicit clarity the burning touches of Malfoy’s fingers, the tender kisses, and the whispered words. And he remembered how utterly _amazing_ it had felt. His breath shuddered, his fingers tightening even more so in Malfoy’s robes. With each swallow the vampire took, the greater Harry’s pleasure soared; so much so he wasn’t even sure he was standing on his own anymore. He felt light, as if his body was beginning to float, and Harry was too far gone to realise that this was not good. His fingers, which had once been clenched so tightly in the Slytherin’s robes, had relaxed, his arms beginning to droop loosely by his sides.

Malfoy had had to stomp on the snarl that wanted to rip from his chest when his mate had offered himself. Even now, with Harry’s blood pouring down his aching throat, his hunger for the brunet could not be satisfied. He’d craved his mate for so long… he was not ready to let go.

With his growing strength, it took Draco a minute to realise that Harry had gone limp in his arms. He stilled, fangs withdrawing from his mate’s neck as he took a moment to compose himself; his body was humming with Harry’s blood and the fresh wave of power nearly sent him reeling. The more aware he became of his surroundings, the more he realised that Harry was no longer responsive.

“Harry?”

Malfoy’s voice sounded distant. It seemed to echo in Harry’s head, bouncing louder and softer within the inside of his ears. He thought he heard the blond curse; it was hard to distinguish words suddenly. They sounded fuzzy, as if Malfoy was speaking through a broken speaker.

Draco stared down in growing horror at the brunet limp in his arms.

_I’ve taken too much…!_

Quicker than he believed possible, Draco had swung Harry into his embrace, carrying him as if his mate weighed nothing.

Then he ran.

* * *

 

“ _Madam Pomfrey!!_ ”

A split second passed before the hospital wing matron was bursting out of her office, robes fluttering madly as she rushed towards them. Her gaze landed on Harry and a knowing looked passed instantly over her face.

“Put him on the bed,” she ordered, lifting her wand and flicking her wrist. Immediately, two identical vials came zooming out of her office and into her free hand. Draco didn’t have to look at them to know what they were.

He laid Harry down gently onto the hospital bed, his gaze searching frantically over the pale brunet for any signs of life. On the other side of the bed, Madam Pomfrey had uncorked both vials and was reaching forward, carefully prying Harry’s chin down to open his mouth. Tipping the two vials expertly, the hospital wing matron poured the red-coloured liquid over Harry’s lips, released his chin and gripped her wand, tracing the tip in the air just above his throat to assist the potion down his oesophagus. Draco watched in frozen panic, his heart thundering as he prayed that his mate was going to be alright.

Finished, Madam Pomfrey placed aside the empty vials of Blood Replenishing potion and pointed her wand at Harry, whose skin was beginning to regain some colour. Above his chest, glowing gold numbers and symbols appeared and the matron scanned them carefully, taking note of Harry’s vitals with a shrewd eye. She made several gestures with her wand, multiple charms and healing spells falling over the Harry’s form with gentle ease. Satisfied, the matron released a calming sigh, her astute gaze flicking to the blond standing so cautiously beside the bed.

“He’ll be alright now,” Madam Pomfrey stated. Draco’s eyes were glued to Harry’s face and she knew it would be impossible to attempt to convince him to leave. “I don’t believe I need to enforce the gravity of the danger Mr Potter could have been in, do I, Mr Malfoy?”

The blond exhaled, his eyes closing briefly as he shook his head. “No,” he murmured, voice tight.

The matron sniffed. “Good. I will be contacting the headmaster to inform him of this I hope you realise.”

“Of course,” Malfoy replied, deadpanned.

The older woman looked over him carefully, frowning. “What about you, Mr Malfoy? Are you alright?”

Draco’s head snapped up quickly, a look of surprised anger on his face. “It is not me you should be worried about,” he stated irritably.

“What was the reason that this occurred?” Madam Pomfrey asked instead, her frown deepening. She watched as a pained expression crossed the young man’s face, his eyes darting towards the bed.

“I’ve only fed from Harry once before,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on the brunet’s face. “And I… frightened him. It was entirely my fault—I acted selfishly and on impulse, not realising how potent a blood-mate’s scent could be. Of course, he stayed away from me then, as I assumed he would.” He returned his stare the matron. “I did not feed for four weeks,” he announced, idly observing the way Madam Pomfrey’s eyes widened in astonishment. “I attempted to feed from Pansy but of course, since I had already initiated the bond with Harry, I was unable to take from her vein. Instead I waited, hoping for Harry’s forgiveness. When he continued to avoid me, I tracked him down, assuming I could just take from him regardless. But he was so scared, so frightened of _me_ , I could not bring myself to hurt him.” Draco had his eyes closed now, a look of such agony on his face Madam Pomfrey could not help but feel for the boy. “So I forced myself away,” he continued, opening his eyes once more. “By then the hunger had become so intense I barely knew where I was or where I was going; I just knew to get as far away from Harry as I could. But then he—he _came_ to find me… he wanted to _talk_.” He stared imploringly at the matron. “He offered himself and I couldn’t—I couldn’t stop myself—”

The harsh look Madam Pomfrey had held before melted into something akin to empathy. She sighed. “Draco,” she began, voice unusually gentle, “I am amazed you’ve made it this long,” she admitted. “Stronger vampires than you have been unable to hold themselves back for the length of time you did. Even when you admitted you succumbed to the urge to feed, you still were not able to bring yourself to touch Harry without his consent. I believe I understand now the extreme pressures forcing you into this situation.”

“But I could have killed him,” Draco said, distraught.

“Yet, despite your intense hunger, you did not.” The older woman placed a gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I will admit to doubts I had when the Headmaster informed me of your… new predicament. I had expected accidents galore as you became accustomed to your new body and hunger. From what you have just explained, Mr Malfoy, you have demonstrated an amazing strength of self-control not easily matched by most. Why I may not condone the actions that led you to this point, it is obvious you are more than aware yourself of the possible dangers. I hope, for yours and Mr Potter’s sake, that some form of understanding will be established between the two of you so incidents such as this will be avoided in the future.”

With a final squeeze of his shoulder, Madam Pomfrey dropped her hand and turned away, heading back to her office. Draco watched her go, disbelief on his face while his fingers curled into the blankets on Harry’s bed, needing something, _anything_ to ground him; he felt unnervingly shaken from the matron’s unexpected understanding.

On the bed, Harry’s hand suddenly twitched. Draco’s full attention was immediately back on his mate, face stricken.

“Harry?” he murmured.

The brunet’s head turned towards the sounds of his name, his brow creasing as his eyes fluttered open, heavy lidded. “What… what happened?” he groaned softly, bringing a hand to his face.

Malfoy ducked his head, words failing him momentarily. Where would he even begin? Harry had given his trust and Draco had torn straight through it, lost in the frenzy of his hunger. He could have seriously hurt the Gryffindor—

“Draco?”

The sound of his given name being spoken by his mate had the Slytherin’s head snapping up. Harry was gazing—albeit tiredly—uncharacteristically kindly at him and it shocked Draco.

“I… I took too much,” he admitted, fingers tightening their hold into the blankets once more.

“Too much?”

Malfoy released a breath. “Of your blood,” he murmured, feeling gentle gusts of understanding flowing through the connection he shared with Harry. “I was so lost to the hunger I couldn’t stop myself.”

“But I’m not dead though… right?”

Draco found himself frowning bemusedly. “No.”

A sleepy smile tugged at Harry’s lips. “Then we’re all good.”

Draco couldn’t help the look of bewilderment he gave his mate and was even more surprised to note how at ease Harry appeared in response. Here his mate was, lying in the hospital wing with Draco Malfoy standing by his bedside, and the brunet’s emotions were so calm… so acquiescent. Not only was it entirely Draco’s fault that Harry was here in the first place, but the blond had put his mate in serious danger only moments after achieving Harry’s acceptance of his condition.

Draco released a gentle sigh. “We need to talk,” he stated, seating himself on the chair beside Harry’s bed. There were so many things he should have explained to Harry; so many secrets he’d kept hidden. Leaving it so late to finally be having this conversation sent Draco’s heart into a stampede of concern. What if Harry did not accept his apology? What if his mate did not care of his explanation—

“If you’re going to admit you’re a vampire, you’ve done that already.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, his heart rate calming at the cheeky smile currently plastered to the dark-haired male’s face. “I think I preferred it when you were avoiding me, Potter.”

Harry snorted as he rearranged himself on the bed, sliding up carefully so he was able to recline against the pillows. “And look where that got us.”

“Touché.”

Shifting his gaze, Harry met Malfoy’s hesitant pale eyes, studying the blond carefully. “So… Voldemort did this to you, yeah?”

Draco nodded.

Harry frowned. “Why?”

There was a moment of silence as the vampire regarded his mate. Draco had anticipated this question… he had only hoped it wasn’t going to be so soon.

“Because I refused him, Harry,” he admitted, “I refused to take the Dark Mark. In its place, the Dark Lord decided that if he could not mark me, another dark-being would. He had me turned.”

“That’s one hell of a punishment,” Harry breathed, gazing at Malfoy incredulously.

Draco snorted. “The best part? If I had to make the choice again… I would still deny the Dark Lord. I may be a dark creature… but at least I am free of him.” He laughed bitterly. “That’s why we— _I_ —went to Granger. She was the furthest person from the Dark Lord I could go. As much as I still detested her at the time, I couldn’t overlook her intellect and talent for unearthing information. She would not have drawn any attention to my new problem and I knew, despite everything I had put her through, that her predictable Gryffindor heart would help me.”

Harry stared.

 _God_ … even despite every explanation Harry had considered, the one Malfoy had just given him had not even been on his list possibilities. If Malfoy had been through all of that… and still was determined to live a somewhat normal life… how could Harry honestly deny him?

“And then there you were,” the blond continued, frowning down at his lap. “I craved you like nothing else, Harry, it was infuriating.”

Harry smirked, a fully-fledged grin spreading across his face before he could stop it. “Ridiculously ironic, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me.”

Harry’s grin melted away into a gentler smile, eyes softening as he gazed at Malfoy sitting beside him. “I hated you for so long…” he murmured. “But then I—even _before_ I knew you had become a vampire, I knew you meant more to me than what we had come to realise. But _fuck_ … Draco, I—did you even think of me in this way before you were changed?”

Draco felt himself grow still. “Truthfully?” he began, lifting his gaze until he was staring at his mate. The brunet held his stare, green eyes filled with the need to be reassured, to _understand_ that this bond wasn’t forced—

“Yes,” he sighed, glancing away. “Yes, as much as I hated myself at the time to even _consider_ the idea… I did. It didn’t make any sense of course... not that I realised at the time. You’ve always been there, haven’t you, Harry? Capturing my attention…” he chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “If you’d had pigtails I believe I would have pulled them, purely to gain your attention.”

“Typical,” Harry scoffed.

“Shut up, Potter.”

Harry flashed him another grin. “So… is all of the vampire stuff true?” he asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Malfoy replied, frowning faintly.

Harry shrugged. “Like all of the—the rumours and, well, I guess the typical stereotype stuff.”

“You mean aside from the sunlight aversion?” Malfoy commented, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Harry smirked. “So… garlic?”

“Adore it,” Malfoy replied, mind still reeling at Potter’s lax attitude. “In fact, I enjoy it more now that my senses have improved.”

“So wait, you can still eat?”

“I’m a dark _creature_ , Potter, not the walking undead. Seriously, what on earth do those muggles teach you?”

Harry tapped his lip thoughtfully. “Well, what about the whole stake to the heart thing?”

Malfoy snorted. “Please, Potter, who _wouldn’t_ that kill.”

Harry stared at the Slytherin in amazement before he tossed his head back and positively roared with laughter. Draco watched in slight fascination as Harry’s face brightened with unbidden joy, eyes flashing with amusement.

“You know, you’re pretty funny when you want to be, Draco.”

“You’ve never taken the time to hear most of my jibes then, Potter.”

Draco found that he liked the way Harry smiled at him. It was so honest, nothing sinister hidden within the glistening green eyes as they stared openly. With his gaze on Harry, it was hard for Draco to miss the blazing, angry puncture wounds on his neck. Draco felt a rush of satisfaction, enjoying the sight of such a possessive mark on his mate’s neck. While the desire to leave the recognisable wound untouched burnt strongly within him, Draco couldn’t help but consider Harry’s opinion on the matter.

“What’s wrong?”

Harry was frowning at him. Obviously, Draco had been staring a little too intently at the inflamed pinpricks. He cleared his throat.

“I was simply wondering if you would like me to heal the bite?” the blond asked.

A look of surprise crossed Harry’s face and he lifted a hand, grazing curious fingers over the puncture wounds on his neck.

“Vampire bites can only be healed by the saliva of one,” Draco explained, a faint pink tinge colouring his cheeks. “I just—I assumed you did not wish to walk around school with such an obvious wound on your neck.”

Merlin, Harry’s eyes were _so green_ as they gawked. Draco watched as his lips parted slightly, the muscles beneath his skin rolling as his swallowed.

“Erm—okay,” Harry murmured. He tracked every movement Malfoy made as the blond stood from the chair, stepped towards the bed, and lowered himself gracefully onto the edge of the mattress.

Draco could feel the warmth of his mate radiating through their robes, grounding him as he leant forward, gaze on Harry’s alluring skin. He allowed his head to drop, breathing in Harry’s scent deeply and, with a gentle caress, he placed his lips onto his mate’s throat, tongue grazing delicately over the bite mark, flecks of dried blood liquefied onto Draco’s tongue. He felt, rather than heard, Harry’s quick intake of breath, his hand coming to rest tentatively on the nape of Draco’s neck and he felt a euphoric shiver run all over his skin. He craved Harry so much it was astounding—how could _one person_ possibly ignite this reaction within him?

Once his mate’s skin was pristine once more, Draco pulled away, his lips positively tingling after being in contact with the brunet. He lifted his gaze, astonished to see the heated look evident in the intense emerald gaze as Harry surveyed him. Harry’s eyes flickered downwards, resting on Draco’s lips momentarily before they returned to his own stare. Before Draco could process the silent request, Harry’s fingers had delved into the front of his robes and the blond was yanked forwards, their mouths crashing together in a searing embrace.

Draco was sure he made a noise in surprise, but when the epitome of his desire was kissing _him_ , he was quick to shove aside his shock and reach for his mate, deepening the kiss with a passion he’d kept subdued for too long.

Harry melted into Malfoy’s grasp, a fainter whimper of need emitting from his throat as Malfoy’s tongue ran delicately across his lips. He opened his mouth instantly and was rewarded with the warm, deliciously invasive muscle as it mapped out his mouth in smooth, languid slides. Harry was eager to return the favour, his own tongue dwelling into Draco’s mouth and sweeping silkily across his teeth. Harry quivered as he ran his tongue down one of the blond’s lengthening fangs, body growing heated.

The urge to shove the Gryffindor down against the mattress was overpowering; all Draco wanted to do was claim him mate, spread his scent all over that delicious skin so everyone would know that Harry Fucking Potter belonged to _him._ Panting, Draco pulled himself away. His body was humming again, fangs throbbing despite having only have fed from Harry moments before. He knew his body craved Harry in a more… physical fashion… but there was no way he would take the brunet now. Draco would no longer push his mate into this bond—this was to be their choice _together_ … and that meant giving Harry the space he needed in order to make a proper decision.

“I will not force you into this,” Draco murmured then, staring at Harry intently. Potter was watching him dazedly, lips enticingly swollen and delightfully red. “I am happy to accept whatever you wish to give… even if it is just a simple friendship.”

A corner of Harry’s lips quirked. “With biting privileges.”

Draco chuckled, nodding. “Yes,” he smirked, “biting privileges would be ideal.” Smirk fading, a look of seriousness coloured his silver eyes and he regarded him carefully. “I will give you the time to consider this,” he murmured. “Please don’t rush into your decision—it will not be beneficial for either of us.”

The Gryffindor nodded. Satisfied, Draco offered a gentle smile, pleased at how far the two of them had come.

“Thank you, Harry,” he said genuinely, voice soft.

The brunet gaped. “Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re going all nice now. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“My apologies, I shall revert to being a git immediately.”

“Thank fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so I know I promised that this was the last chapter... but I TOTALLY underestimated how much I was actually going to write. Instead, I have split the chapter into two, as it is about to go over 10k and really, it felt right to end the chapter here.
> 
> I have most of the OFFICIALLY last chapter written with just a few more scenes left to insert. Thank you to everyone for your amazing support! This has been fun to write :D
> 
> Comments are love!!


	7. Chapter 7

“Er, mate?”

“Yeah, Ron?”

“Why did you walk to class with Malfoy just now?”

“…because we both take History of Magic?”

The red-head glowered. “You _know_ what I mean!” he growled. “What the hell, Harry! Yesterday you were all like ‘ _Don’t leave my side, Ron! Don’t leave me alone with him! Blah, blah blah_ ’.”

Harry grinned crookedly, glancing down the corridor to where Malfoy and Parkinson were standing. “Well,” he began, turning back to peer at his best friend, “it’s not really corridor conversation. Can you wait until after class?” He glanced around again, searching for the bushy-head of his other best friend. “It’s something I should probably tell Hermione too.”

Ron’s frown grew but he nodded jerkily despite, his eyes holding promises of cornering Harry as soon as they were alone. He followed Harry into the classroom, plonking himself into a chair with a huff and tossing his bag haphazardly onto the desk.

“Are you honestly going to sulk all lesson?” Harry stated, quirking an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Can you blame me?” Ron grunted with a pout. “You’ve gone from one extreme to the other.”

Harry considered this for a moment and decided to give his friend a break. “Yeah, fair enough,” he replied. “I promise to explain everything, alright? But it’s really not anything I want people overhearing.”

“Okay, okay,” Ron grumbled, appeasing Harry’s concern.

Harry twisted in his chair, keeping an eye out for Hermione as the class filed in. When his eyes landed on her face, he beckoned her over, slightly amused at the cautious surprise that lit up the female’s expression.

“Hi,” she began hesitantly, sitting down at the desk behind them. “How—how are you?”

“Alright,” Harry replied, “but there is something I want to talk with you about. Are you free after class?”

Hermione nodded immediately. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Is everything alright?”

“To a degree,” Harry replied cryptically, unable to stop himself from teasing Hermione just a little. “We’ll head up to the boy’s dormitory after this, okay?” Then he turned back around in his chair, reached for his bag and began to pull out parchment and ink.

* * *

 

Draco had not felt this content whilst being within such close quarters with his mate ever. For the first time since he had returned to Hogwarts in his new condition, Draco found himself feeling more like his old self, even with Harry just across the room from him. There was no urge to claim the male, no distracting growling hunger that had forever felt unsated. He could not believe the difference in his concentration as Professor Binns began his lecture. His body seemed to exuberate a sense of serenity that radiated unseeingly around him, so much so that even Pansy, who sat beside, could explicitly feel the dissimilarity.

 _Thank Merlin for small miracles…_ Draco thought in mild amusement, eyes sliding over to where Harry sat. He felt a gentle wave of warmth breeze over him at the sight of his mate and he found a smile curling at his lips before he could stop it. He forced his gaze away, not wanting any others to question why he staring affectionately at the Golden Boy of all people.

_Speculation is the last thing Harry and I need right now…_

Something fluttered onto the desk. Glancing down, Draco’s brow creased a little at the sight of a neatly folded piece of parchment. He threw a shrewd glance to the female sitting resolutely motionless at his side before he reached for it, his long pale fingers enclosing around the parchment and pulling it towards him, unfurling it surreptitiously.

_You never did tell me if Madam Pomfrey gave you a beating._

A sleek blond eyebrow quirked in mild amusement as his reached for his quill to reply.

_She was… surprisingly empathetic about the situation. Blessed woman even allowed Harry and I time alone before she insisted on checking his wellbeing._

Draco slid the parchment back across the table, smirking faintly at how fast Pansy snatched it up. He had, of course, told his best friend pretty much everything that had happened the previous day. After his return from the Hospital Wing to the Slytherin common room, Pansy had almost torn his arm from his socket as she yanked him towards his bedroom. From the look on her face, Draco was best not to argue. The astonishment on the brunette’s face had definitely been worth the wait though. Draco felt a grin tug at his lips at the memory.

_And Potter is alright with all of this?_

Suppressing the urge to roll his pale eyes, Draco fingered his quill once more.

_He appears to be._

Pansy snorted gently.

_You’re damn lucky Potter doesn’t hate your guts._

Throwing a quick glance over at the brunet, Draco couldn’t help but agree.

* * *

 

Safely ensconced within Harry’s room, Ron turned expectantly to his best mate, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

“Alright, spill,” he demanded.

“Nice tact there, Ronald,” Hermione commented, taking a seat on Harry’s bed while the brunet leant against one of the wooden posts.

“Don’t pretend you’re not desperate to hear this as well, Hermione.”

“I’m not pretending to be anything,” the female replied truthfully. “However, since Harry has already expressed his desire to tell us something, and that we are now hidden securely in your dormitory, wouldn’t that demonstrate that he is about to indeed ‘spill’?”

“Oh shush, Hermione.”

Grinning wryly, Harry smoothed down his school robes in a nervous fidget, suddenly unsure about how his friends would react to his unexpected news.

“Go on, Harry,” Hermione prodded gently. “Whatever it is you have to tell us I am sure we will understand.”

Drawing in a reassuring breath, Harry nodded. “Alright just bear with me, alright?” he began. “This starts out pretty crazy but sort of ends… nice?” He couldn’t help but wince at the incredulous look Ron was currently giving him. “Don’t _look_ at me like that, mate, you’re making me nervous.”

“ _Should_ you be? Merlin, Harry, what the hell happened?”

Harry exhaled. “Malfoy came after me when I left Transfiguration yesterday,” he admitted. “ _BUT—_ ” he interrupted the red-head before Ron could exclaim his indignation, “nothing happened, alright? He wanted to bite me and he tried, but for some reason he—he just wasn’t able to.”

Ron was staring. Hermione was nodding thoughtfully.

“What do you mean he wasn’t _able_ to?” Ron asked with a frown.

“I’m not sure,” Harry replied honestly. “He looked so desperate and bloody hell it was pretty fucking scary but then he… he just _left_.”

Hermione spoke up then, understanding glistening in her eyes. “The first rule between a vampire and their mate is to protect them at all costs,” she explained. “This includes the way the vampire acts _towards_ their mate. If Draco was frightening you, Harry, he would not have been able to bring himself to hurt you in any way or form, regardless of how desperate he was for you.”

“So you’re telling me that Malfoy, who was practically starving for Harry enough to track him down and force himself on him, backed off because Harry was _scared_?”

“Ron, don’t be so obtuse.” Hermione sighed. “This is important. It’s this sort of behaviour that demonstrates how important Harry is to Draco, so much so that he was willing to starve than force himself on his mate.” She turned her brown eyes on Harry. “What happened after that?”

“Well, I—I didn’t really know what to do,” he answered, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I kind of just sat there for a bit. I had been so sure that it was this bond that made me feel the way I did towards Malfoy, that when he was able to force himself away it… confused me. I figured that if he was able to ignore the bond for my sake then maybe… maybe Draco did care for me after all.” He glanced between his two friends, relieved to see the lack of anger on Ron’s face. He continued. “It made me realise that what I felt for him was real and I… I went after him.”

One of Hermione’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock as Ron gaped.

“Harry…” she whispered.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry remarked with a crooked grin. “Pretty dumb considering.”

“What happened?” Ron asked, voice strangely thin. “Obviously you’re alright so Malfoy didn’t drain you dry, but…”

“He almost did, I think,” Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t remember much to be honest. When I found him he initially told me to leave. I could see how much my presence was hurting him so I made a decision. I did what any silly Gryffindor would do… I told him it was alright. After that I don’t really remember anything until I woke up in the Hospital Wing.”

Across the room, Ron cleared his throat. “So… Malfoy didn’t touch you until you said it was okay, yeah?”

Harry nodded.

“And then he proceeded to almost kill you.”

Harry couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Well, when you put it _that way_.” He smirked at his best friend, shaking his head. “I don’t blame Draco for losing control, Ron,” he stated. “I told him it was alright knowing how desperate he was. It wasn’t the most ideal situation but it happened and now… now I’ve made peace with the fact that I am Draco’s blood-mate.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better how this, Harry,” Hermione voiced, smiling up at him. “And if you do decide to accept this bond, there are things you will need to know,” she explained, watching as the brunet sunk onto the edge of the mattress beside her. “If you want I am more than happy to inform you of each step so you are able to think about this seriously.”

Harry nodded. “I’d like to know, thanks, Mione.”

Upon hearing her nickname, Hermione knew she was forgiven.

“There are three steps in establishing a pure blood-bond between vampire and mate. Step one Draco has already performed by ingesting your blood. Yes, it would have been prudent to appropriately seek your consent beforehand but in the eyes of the bond, it has still been completed. Now, step two is similar, but requires a closer connection between the two of you. This is because you, Harry, will need to ingest some of Draco’s blood in return.”

Harry blinked. “Isn’t that how you become a vampire though?”

Hermione looked at him in bewilderment. “What do you mean?”

“The whole exchanging blood thing?” Harry frowned in confusion. “Isn’t that how people become vampires?”

Hermione huffed in amusement. “There’s a little more to becoming a vampire than just exchanging blood, Harry. This bond between you and Draco is entirely different and involves... a certain act. But I—I think that should be something you ask Draco when the time is right, okay?”

Harry heard the unspoken insinuation in the female’s voice and frowned. “Come on, Mione, just tell me. I’d rather know all of this now before getting sprung with another surprise.”

The brunette sighed but assented. “Alright.” She turned to face him a little more. “The third and final step of your bond is… having sexual intercourse. It physically seals the connection between you. A blood-mate is always someone a vampire will crave, established bond or no. You see, Harry, when a blood-bond is officially created, it initiates the emotional and physical connection between the two of you, something so strong there is almost nothing that can break it.”

A long descending whistle echoed around the room as Ron stared across the room at them.

“So Harry _definitely_ won’t become a vampire then?” he stated, needing the confirmation.

“That’s not how you become a vampire, Ronald,” Hermione explained patiently.

“But—all those stories?”

“Exactly. _Stories_.” Hermione smiled with a shake of her head and turned to look at Harry once more. “By offering himself to you, body and soul, Draco is choosing you and _only_ you. The bond the two of you will share will be unbreakable. Sharing blood is, not to sound cliché, the _lifeblood_ of your bond. You will feel Draco, Harry, on a level you can’t even begin to comprehend.”

Harry leant to the side, shoulder resting against the wooden post of his bed and swallowed. Hard. The idea of being connected to someone so deeply should have frightened him… but it only seemed to strengthen his resolve.

“But this all happens while you remain human,” Hermione continued. “The bond will help in extending your age of course—you’ll probably live as long as Draco will. But you will not need to consume blood as Draco does, nor will you start growing fangs or anything of the sort.”

Harry allowed a smile to grace his lips. “Aww dang, no fangs?”

Hermione giggled. “No fangs.”

“So what is the point of this bond?” Ron asked then. “Why is it so important that Harry accepts?”

“The bond provides protection on both of their parts,” the female continued. “Harry and Draco will feel each other’s emotions and know each other intimately. Not only will the bond make Harry untouchable to other vampires, which—” Hermione smirked, “hopefully won’t be needed, but it also provides Harry with the ability to pacify and appease Draco when needed. Vampires can be tremendously passionate creatures and it is extremely rare for anyone, save their mate, who is capable of calming them. There is also, of course, the ultimate feeling of contentment and love and harmony and all that but I feel as if that were a given…” She trailed off with a gentle smile, gazing at Harry who was peering at the floor, his lips curved into his own, private smile.

“And Malfoy won’t be able to hurt Harry, right?”

Both Harry and Hermione turned identical frowns to their friend who raised his hands quickly.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he said quickly. “Well, maybe a little,” he admitted. “I’m just looking out for you, mate, you know that.”

The brunet allowed his brow to relax. Hermione scoffed at his side.

“If it makes you feel better, Ronald, no, Draco won’t be able to hurt Harry—not that he’d _want_ to. This bond is like nothing you can imagine. Harry is Draco’s _everything_ —his very reason to live. To bring any sort of harm or misgiving to his mate would cause him immense agony.”

The room was silent for a moment as Harry collected his thoughts. He had known that the bond was important, at least, to some form of degree, but he hadn’t realised just _how_ imperative a bond could be to a vampire. If Malfoy had felt this way since the very beginning… how on earth had he survived this long?

“So what’s the deal with you and Malfoy at the moment?” Ron asked then, his brow creasing as he frowned. “I mean, you walked with him to class this morning, are you guys making whatever this is official?”

Harry shrugged. “Sort of?” he replied. “Draco doesn’t want me to dive straight into this—and I agree with him. We’re attempting the concept of friends before considering something more serious. I’d rather become comfortable with the idea of the bond without the pressure, you know? He said we can remain friends if that’s all I want.”

“What _do_ you want, Harry?” Hermione’s voice was soft and full of thoughtful understanding.

Harry frowned down at his lap. “I think I want to be more than friends,” he admitted, voice barely a murmur.

Hermione’s smile grew. “Ron and I will support you whatever you decide.”

“Yeah, mate,” Ron chimed in, “except you promised I could get in at least one hex, yeah? Since he acted like a dick before.”

Harry laughed, nodding. “You got it, Ron.”

* * *

 

The weekend of the first Hogsmeade trip dawned bright and freezing, Hogwarts’ grounds now blanketed in a thick layer of snow. Although it was early within the season to see such intense cold weather, it did not deter the students from visiting the wizarding town with excitement. That was of course, save for one Draco Malfoy, who had grown steadily moodier the closer to the weekend they got.

“Pouting at your breakfast isn’t going to make the situation any better,” Pansy insisted with a faint sneer. “Seriously, Draco, it’s just a stupid village.”

“Of which I can no longer visit,” Draco replied with a growl. “It’s not the bloody village, Pansy, it’s the fucking principle.”

The Slytherin table was sparse of students, many of them already on their way to Hogsmeade. Draco had been poking irritably at his food for half an hour, testily ignoring the many comments from Blaise and Theo as to why he was not joining them. A scathing remark from the blond had the boys backing away in surrender, leaving Draco to his little snit with Pansy rolling her eyes at his side.

“You can’t do anything about this, Draco,” she whispered fervently. “So why sulk?”

“Because I’m fucking entitled to.”

Pansy threw her hands up in the air. “ _Fine_ ,” she spat, returning her attention to her own breakfast.

Wrapped up as they were in their own emotional bubbles, the two of them started in surprise when an unexpected figure plopped down onto the bench opposite. The frown on Draco’s face immediately melted away as his gaze landed on his mate who was smiling at him, green eyes flicking briefly to Pansy. He and Harry had been spending more and more time together the past week, from simple study sessions usually joined by Pansy or Hermione, to sneaky late night walks, the only time Draco was able to freely leave the castle. They hadn’t spoken much of the bond since that evening in the Hospital Wing but it wasn’t worrying Draco, not when he was still able to spend such close moments with his blood-mate in companionable ease.

“What are you doing today?” Potter asked, reaching out to snag a piece of buttered toast.

“Being a shit,” Pansy replied instead, blinking innocently at the blond as he threw her a vicious glare. “Oh, please, Draco, I bet Potter could see your pout from across the hall.”

Harry snorted a laugh. “Well, unless that is your final plan, I was wondering if you would like to spend today together.”

Draco’s pale eyebrows rose at the suggestion. “You’re not going to Hogsmeade?” he asked, a faint smile curling at his lips.

“Well… considering most of the school will probably be going down there, I thought it would give us a good chance to talk without being gawked at,” Harry said with a grin, biting into his stolen toast triangle.

Draco could have leapt across the table at this announcement. Here his mate was, actively seeking _him_ out, and making plans just for the two of them.

_Away from prying eyes._

“Sounds good,” he replied instead, trying to keep his excitement minimal. “Where would you like to go?”

Harry chewed thoughtfully, his brow creasing slightly. “God, I honestly have no clue,” he admitted. “We can’t exactly go to our common rooms can we.”

Pansy cleared her throat delicately. “There’s a rather spacious alcove near the Astronomy Tower,” she suggested with a knowing smirk. “Out of the way, hardly _any_ chance of being discovered…”

“I’m happy with that if you are,” Harry replied, gazing at Malfoy who nodded in agreement. The Gryffindor’s smile widened. “Brilliant, I’ll meet you there in about ten minutes.” With that, the brunet got to his feet and left the Slytherin table, shoving the rest of his toast into his mouth. Draco regarded him in amusement, minutely shaking his head as he returned his gaze to his food.

“Feel better now, princess?”

“Shut up, Pansy.”

* * *

 

Harry was already waiting for him when Draco arrived. He was sitting on a large stone ledge, gazing out of the snow framed window. Draco felt himself pause, taking a moment study his mate, examining his relaxed posture as he reclined against the wall. Even in jeans, a dark hooded jumper, and sneakers, the dark-haired Gryffindor took his breath away.

And that was saying something.

Smothering a smirk, Draco resumed walking. Hearing the approaching footsteps, Harry turned, his lips curving into a welcoming smile.

“Aww, no Parkinson?”

Draco visibly shuddered. “Don’t even joke about that, Potter.”

Harry chuckled, eyes bright with mischievous glee. He brought his knees closer to his chest, leaning against them as he peered up at the blond. Draco propped himself against the wall just across from his mate, folding his arms loosely.

“So, no Hogsmeade visit for you today then?” Draco asked, trying to keep his tone empty of all jealous contempt.

“There will be other times,” Harry replied offhandedly. “I can’t imagine you’re jumping for joy about it.”

Malfoy laughed sourly. “Is it that obvious?” He offered a wry smile. “I may survive as long as Pansy holds out on her promise to return with buckets of chocolate.”

Harry grinned, chuckling. “You? Like _chocolate?_ ”

“Oh, shut up, Potter.”

Malfoy quirked his head to the side, analysing his mate as a small simmer of curiosity began to burn within him. “Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?” he found himself asking.

Harry allowed his legs to unfold and he stretched leisurely, shifting forward until he was sitting on the edge of the ledge.

“Yeah,” he replied honestly, getting to his feet and coming to stand before the tall, blond Slytherin. A quick dart of his tongue moistened his lips and Draco couldn’t help but allow his gaze to drop to the movement.

“I appreciate you giving me time to consider what I want from this bond,” Harry said, holding Malfoy’s stare. “…and I think I’ve made my decision.”

Draco’s breath stilled in his lungs. All he could do was gape at the dark-haired male, thoughts and questions a whirlwind in his mind. He didn’t dare to hope as to what Harry’s answer could be but _Merlin_ please… please let it be so…

A corner of Harry’s mouth lifted. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep you waiting for my answer.”

“That would be preferable.”

A cheeky grin flashed across Harry’s face and Draco was pleased to note the way his mate moved closer; the brunet was practically within kissing distance. Not that Draco was thinking of kissing of course. No. Not at all. Not when Harry had yet to confess how he felt and… all of that.

He swallowed.

“So?” he managed.

Harry released a gentle sigh. “I’m tired of pretending,” he admitted, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. And good god he really was. He was tired of the way he hid his true desires, tired of how he ignored the way he felt it in his stomach every time Draco smiled. His body knew what it wanted… and what it wanted was Draco.

“You’re in my head all the time, Draco, even before I knew what I was to you,” Harry continued. His cheeks began to grow warm at his admission but he held Malfoy’s gaze despite, needing the vampire to see that he was serious. “And I don’t see the point in pretending that I never wanted this. Because I do, Draco, fuck it all, I actually do.”

Draco could scarcely believe his ears. “Are you sure, Harry?” he murmured, eyes tracking over his mate’s face for any hint of uncertainty.

Smiling gently, Harry lifted a hand, fingers tracing along the curve of Malfoy’s cheek. The Slytherin couldn’t help but lean into his palm, eyes closing briefly as he relished in the warmth of his mate’s touch.

“Yes.” Harry firmed his strokes, hand cupping Draco’s jaw and fingers curling around the side of his neck. “Even if that means drinking your, _ugh_ , blood.” The grin on Harry’s face countered his comment but Draco was still unable to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“I thought you were serious about this, Potter.”

“I am. Now hurry up and kiss me.”

Chuckling, Draco leant forwards, eyes on the enticing way Harry’s lips parted so readily. “How can I refuse such a request?” Closing the gap between them, Draco captured his mate’s mouth in a kiss so passionate Harry’s knees actually buckled. He was saved from hitting the floor by Draco’s secure embrace, his own hands coming to rest on the blond’s broad shoulders to help steady himself.

Harry’s needy moan was muffled by Draco’s lips, Draco’s tongue surging into his mouth and massaging his own with loving caresses; it was enough to drive the brunet into a frenzy. He shoved trembling fingers into soft silken hair, the digits knotting to the point of pain, fingernails scraping along the blond’s scalp. Cool, gentle fingers stole beneath his jumper, the fingertips gliding tantalisingly across his skin, making Harry shiver.

Before he knew it, Harry felt Draco pull reluctantly away and he forced his eyes open, pleased when he saw Malfoy’s dishevelled appearance, the tips of Draco’s fangs poking passed his top lip.

“Come with me,” Draco murmured.

“Okay,” Harry managed to reply, eyes glazed.

Malfoy’s deep chuckles seem to fill the corridor as he led Harry away from their hidden alcove. The brunet followed in a willing daze, his cheeks flaming, body warm from the intensity of the kiss. It wasn’t until they reached the seventh floor that Harry realised where Malfoy was leading him and an immediate swirl of anticipation rose in his gut. He licked his suddenly dry lips as the doors to the Room of Requirement appeared, the familiar dark wooden doors materialising before their eyes. Malfoy reached for the handle and, with a quick heated look at his mate, pushed open the door and pulled them both inside.

The door snapped shut behind them and the two males immediately froze.

The room was lined with hundreds of flickering candles, their dancing flames casting a beautiful, gentle light over an array of pillows and cushions as they lay in elegant piles. In a space cleared before a large open fire was a white, fluffy, and very inviting rug.

Harry turned to the blond with a smirk. “If I didn’t know better, Draco, I would have thought you planned this.”

Malfoy scoffed. “Please, Potter, I’m just that good.” He took Harry’s hand, leading him deeper into the room. He paused near the fire and turned, facing his mate and biting his bottom lip. “I need to be honest with you, Harry. Something more than a simple blood exchange is required in order to complete the bond between us.”

Harry quirked his head with a curious frown. Had Hermione missed a crucial part of information? “What do you mean?”

Malfoy swallowed. Something, Harry had begun to notice, Draco did whenever he was nervous.

“The bond requires us to be intimate. That is… to have intercourse.”

Harry’s frown deepened “Yeah, and?” he pressed, before his eyes widened slightly. A grin spread across his face. “You didn’t realise I knew that already.”

A faint pink tinge had appeared on Malfoy’s cheeks.

“Well, no,” he admitted.

“ _Seriously_ , Draco, you do realise who my best friend is, yeah? Don’t you think Hermione would have told me everything she could in preparation?”

Pale eyes stared unbelievingly at Harry. “And you’re… you’re alright with this?”

“The way we were kissing before? I think I’m more than alright with it, Draco.”

“No need to be _sarcastic_ , Potter.”

“No need to be _defensive_ , Malfoy.”

A predatory smile began to spread across Draco’s face and he stepped forwards, pegging Harry with a penetrating stare. Harry backed away with a teasing grin, his heart beginning to thump. Instead of apprehension surging through him however, this time there was only bubbling exhilaration. His back bumped into the cool stone of the wall behind, eyes focussed on the blond as he stalked forwards, and he was unable to wipe the smirk from his lips as Draco’s leer focussed on his mouth.

“I’m going to make you eat those words, Harry,” Draco positively growled, closing the space between them.

“I look forward to _mmph_ —”

Harry’s back arched, his fingers latching onto the blond’s upper arms and digging almost painfully as Draco kissed him senseless. He felt Malfoy’s arms wrap around him, his body pulled flush against Malfoy’s, and a delicious hardness begin to rub against his thigh. Harry trembled, moaning as Draco suddenly left his mouth to press hot, open kisses on his neck.

“Last chance, Harry,” he moaned into Harry’s skin, “are you sure—?”

“Stop talking,” Harry gasped, pressing against the back of Malfoy’s head. Draco responding with a harsh nip of his skin and Harry groaned, pressing himself harder against the male who held him. Deft fingers began to divulge Harry of his clothes, his shirt and jumper sliding up his skin together and in a quick motion, the articles of clothing were pulled up and over Harry head, exposing his flushed torso. Immediately, a hot mouth latched onto one of his pert nipples and Harry felt himself jerk, body flooding with arousal.

“Too. Many. _Clothes_.” Harry’s words came out as pants but the instruction was clear. Chuckling, Draco fumbled for his wand and with a quick flick, the remaining clothing disappeared, leaving them both breathless and _oh so_ naked.

Leaning forwards, Draco pushed his lover back against the wall and aligned his body fully against him. _Merlin…_ if Draco had enjoyed looking at Harry, it was nothing compared to the _feel_ of him. His mate was fire hot, skin burning beneath Draco’s touch as his hands swept over every inch of his skin. He allowed a hand to drop, teasing fingers gliding alluringly over Harry’s abdomen, stomach quivering from the touch, before the brunet choked a sudden gasp, Draco’s hand wrapping possessively around his hard cock.

“Oh, _g-god_ ,” the brunet moaned, unable to stop himself from thrusting into Draco’s fist.

“Allow me take care of you,” Malfoy purred.

Harry shivered as he watched his lover lower himself to his knees. Draco’s mouth was parted slightly and gentle puffs of air caressed his sensitive skin every time the male exhaled. A shaky breath left Harry’s throat and he reached forwards to run his fingers through the vampire’s soft blond hair, swallowing jerkily when Malfoy leant forward, pressing a lingering kiss to the tip of Harry’s leaking cock.

The brunet moaned.

A hot tongue began to slide down the length of the brunet’s erection, a pair of glistening silver eyes boring into Harry’s all the while. Harry inhaled unsteadily, an intense swell of heat surging through his body so strongly he swayed. Draco emitted a deep chuckle, warm hands gliding over the skin of Harry’s hips to steady him. Even in the blond’s long slim fingers Harry could feel the strength Draco now wielded and he leant into him automatically, trusting his lover not to let him fall. Draco pressed a tender kiss to the crease of Harry’s inner thigh in response, earning him a gentle sigh from the male above.

When lips enclosed around the head of his impatiently twitching cock, Harry threw his head back against the wall, a moan vibrating his throat. Draco’s mouth was so warm… so _moist_ … Harry could virtually feel himself drowning in it.

“ _Draco_ …” Harry barely felt the word pass his lips, but he did feel the way his lover drew more of him in. He sucked in a breath as his cock slid over Draco’s tongue and rubbed against the back of his throat, the male swallowing convulsively as he took the brunet whole.

“Fuck!” Harry yelled as Draco hummed.

Pulling back, the blond smirked up at him, his hand sliding up and down Harry’s slick erection. “One would think you’ve never had a blow job before, Harry.”

Panting, Harry levelled as much of a glare down to Malfoy kneeling before him as he could muster. “Oh, shut up,” he grumbled.

“Hmm…” Draco leant forwards, tonguing the slit of Harry’s cock and causing the brunet to whimper, “is that really something you should be saying to the male currently holding your dick?” He twisted his wrist, clenching and unclenching his fingers teasingly. Harry found himself leaning back against the wall, legs shaking, and cock positively throbbing in Draco’s hand.

“ _Uh—_ I suppose not…” He bit his bottom lip, hips thrusting into Draco’s hand. “Oh god, D-Draco, _please…_ ”

“Patience, my love.” Draco dragged his tongue languidly along a distended vein of his lover’s erection, enjoying the way Harry was so malleable in his hands. “I promised I would take care of you.” Swallowing Harry entirely once more, Draco relished in the sounds his beloved Gryffindor made. Every gasp made his cock jerk, every whimper made his heart clench, and every moan set his blood on fire, his yearning for his mate stronger now than it had ever been. He opened his throat, needing his mate deeper within him, wanting to feel Harry as much as he could. He swallowed, the walls of his throat massaging his mate’s pulsing cock, his tongue sliding along the base of the thick erection.

Harry tasted exactly as Draco dreamed.

He teased his mate for another minute before Draco pulled back with a _pop_ and began to run a coy hand down Harry’s right leg, his fingertips leaving burning trails along the brunet’s skin. Wrapping his fingers around Harry’s ankle, he tightened his grasp and guided the leg up and over his shoulder, bringing Harry’s deliciously scented skin even closer. Draco’s eyes fluttered closed as he mouthed the strong bounding pulse in his lover’s femoral artery, his hand keeping a steady pace on Harry’s weeping cock in place of his mouth while his other ran smoothly up and down the outside of the thigh thrown over his shoulder, massaging the skin enticingly. He heard Harry’s breath hitch, felt Harry’s fingers tighten in his hair. He sucked forcibly on the brunet’s skin, nipping, and scraping his fangs provocatively. Sweeping his scorching gaze upwards, Draco groaned deep in his throat as he watched his lover’s back arch; Harry’s skin gleamed in the candlelight.

_Mine…_

With a final burning kiss, Draco sunk his fangs into his lover’s inner thigh.

Harry’s scream of ecstasy echoed all around them and Draco was eternally thankful for the implied silencing charms the Room of Requirement no doubt possessed. _No one_ deserved to hear his Harry during this intimate moment—this was his moment and his alone. He could feel his mate jerking with his release, his muscles pulsing with spasms as his orgasm flooded through his entire figure. The taste of his beloved on his tongue sent Draco into a frenzy; _Merlin_ there was nothing better than drinking from his mate. With a final tender kiss, the blond lifted his head, cock twitching appreciatively at the sight of his mate looking so debauched.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, Harry felt himself sag, Draco’s hands the only thing keeping him standing. He offered no resistance as his lover moved him, shifting his body until he was lying on the soft, pleasantly warm rug. He felt pleasantly sated, muscles flaccid as he opened his eyes to gaze at the male above him, a tender smile appearing on his lips. Seeing the smile, Draco leant down to kiss his mate sweetly, their lips brushing in gentle exchange.

“Harry…” he murmured, “will you allow me to make love to you?”

Staring at the blond, Harry nodded, trusting the vampire completely. A beautiful smile lit up Draco’s face and he leant forward once again, grazing his lips against the brunet’s in another tender kiss.

“Turn over, love,” he whispered breathlessly.

And Harry did so, lying on his stomach without a second thought. The gentle caress of the white rug felt wonderful against his heated skin and he sighed, feeling his lover’s hands run themselves soothingly down his back as Draco’s body moved, fitting in between his parted thighs.

“Merlin yes,” he whispered, pressing a warm kiss to the base of Harry’s spine. “I need to taste you, Harry. Please, may I taste you?”

His lover’s answering moan of consent was enough to cause Draco’s cock to weep, his fingers massaging the warm, tanned globes of Harry’s arse. He heard his mate’s breath shudder and Draco groaned in reciprocation, Harry pushing back towards him, offering himself. Unable to wait a second longer, Draco parted Harry’s cheeks, his gaze instantly falling on the delicious pink ring that awaited him. As his tongue finally swept over the most intimate place of his love, Draco moaned. The sheer amount of trust Harry was gifting to him right now was overwhelming; it made him dizzy with need. His tongue brushed in controlled, languid strokes over Harry’s puckered entrance before he began to circle the ring with the tip, unable to stop himself from teasing his mate with delicate flicks.

“ _Draco_ ,” Harry gasped, his hips rocking back as he desperately sought for more. “Draco, _please_.”

With a smile, Draco acquiesced. He pushed his tongue forward, breaching his mate’s entrance and forcing his tongue deep within. The brunet choked a gasp, fingers curling into the fibres of the rug and twisting painfully even as he pushed himself back once more. He couldn’t believe something so filthily intimate could feel so _amazing_. He could feel with explicit clarity the way Draco’s tongue moved within him, the talented tongue working him open, gliding in and out.

Harry’s wanton moans were going to be the death of Draco if he didn’t act. With a hurried whispered spell, his fingers became coated in cool, slippery lubricant. He lined up a single finger with his probing tongue and leisurely began to slide the digit into his lover, preparing him carefully. It didn’t take long before Harry was begging for more, his gasps and pleads fuelling Draco’s passion, and he added a second finger, removing his tongue so he was able to scissor them, stretching Harry properly. By the time Draco had three fingers inside of his mate, Harry was a panting, quivering mess and Draco was no better. He repeated the spell, this time coating his own cock.

“Roll over, love,” he managed to whisper, swallowing back a groan as his erection positively hummed with impatience in his grip.

Harry shifted, his body trembling with desire as he turned over. His eyes were dark with lust, lips parted as he breathed heavily, watching Draco as the vampire knelt once more in between his parted thighs, his cock lying thick and heavy on his stomach. One of the blond’s warm hands swept lovingly up his right leg, thumb brushing over the lingering bite mark on his inner thigh. Harry’s eyes rolled back as he moaned, legs spreading even further apart. With a gentle caress, Draco encouraged his lover to lift his legs and directed them around his waist. Draco swallowed in anticipation as he lined himself up with his mate, the head of his erection pushing against the loosened ring of muscle. Slowly, he inched himself forwards, surprised at how readily Harry yielded to him. But he was careful, sweet Merlin’s beard was he careful. He could feel how tight his mate still was despite being prepared so thoroughly and Draco made sure to keep track of Harry’s responses, progressing only when the brunet indicated.

“ _Harry_ ,” Draco moaned, coming to rest at the hilt.

The brunet rocked against him, hips undulating as his lips searched desperately for Draco’s, melting into the kiss they shared. His arse was so full, so full of _Draco_. And it was _perfect._

Harry’s eyes were heavy lidded as he gazed up at the male above him. Molten silver eyes stared back, unhidden love shining in their depths. Slowly, Draco raised his wrist to his mouth, his fangs glinting in the firelight. Harry’s pulse quickened, lust humming in his veins, as he watched Draco score himself, crimson liquid dribbling across his pale skin. Wordlessly, lips coated with his own blood, Draco offered his wrist to the brunet below him, who immediately lifted his head to seal his lips over the wound.

Draco groaned deep in his throat, entire body trembling. He could feel the bond materialising between them, a connection so strong it rocked his very core. The emotions he could feel from Harry intensified and he gasped aloud, swarmed with a feeling of such serenity and acceptance it made his heart ache.

As soon as Harry’s lips parted from his skin, Draco’s mouth was back on his, kissing him so deeply it made Harry’s mind spin. His fingers scoured down the blond’s back, earning him a guttural moan and a wonderful flex of Draco’s hips. Harry gasped.

“Oh god,” he choked. “Draco, more.”

Draco began to thrust shallowly, his movements accentuated by the gentle pressure Harry applied with his legs as they tightened around his lover’s waist, forcing him deeper. Exhilarated by Harry’s response, Draco fastened his thrusts, pounding into his mate beneath him with body jarring force, mumbled words of encouragement falling from Harry’s lips. When Harry suddenly cried out in pleasure, back arching almost painfully, Draco knew he was striking the right spot.

“ _Please_ ,” Harry panted. “Oh god, Draco, _faster_.”

Draco leant down to kiss him as he quickened his pace. The feel of his mate around his cock was almost too much; Harry was so tight, so _warm_ , it was smothering… and he savoured every second. Their skin gleamed with sweat, bodies moving together as if they were made to fit. Harry could feel the muscles on Draco’s back shifting beneath his skin as he moved his hands up, fingers delving in the blond’s hair. His lungs were beginning to burn for oxygen but, _oh god_ , Draco’s mouth was so utterly perfect, tongue so delightfully talented, Harry simply craved more.

Draco tore his mouth away. Hot, bruising kisses began to line the brunet’s jaw and Harry instinctively exposed his neck, a moan rumbling in his throat as he felt the familiar scrape of Draco’s fangs along his skin.

 _Oh god, yes!_ Harry’s mind screamed. He could feel his orgasm building, the simmering warmth pooling in his stomach.

“ _Harry_ ,” the blond moaned, impelling his fangs into his mate’s neck.

Harry screamed as his orgasm hit, ropes of come shooting from his untouched cock and splattering between them, body convulsing.

Feeling his mate clench and spasm around him was Draco’s undoing. He pounded into Harry twice more before his orgasm hit him so strongly he had to withdraw his fangs from his mate’s throat to suck in a strangled breath. Come flooded inside the brunet who lay limp and dazed, eyes half-mast as he watched Draco ride out the intense waves of pleasure. With a final jerk, Draco’s arms gave way and he fell, breathing harshly into Harry’s skin, his lover’s arms coming around to encircle him.

He hummed blearily in contentment.

Harry’s hands were drifting lazily up and down Draco’s slick back, fingertips grazing delicately over his skin. He released a content sigh, head turning so he was able to press a lingering kiss to Draco’s cheek. The crackle of the fire was the only sound to penetrate the silence as their breathing died down. Draco was a comforting weight above him and for a brief, blissful moment, Harry was able to forget that there was more to their world than the room around them.

Breathing in deeply, Harry allowed his fingers to thread yet again through Draco’s soft hair as he spoke.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of Hogwarts heard me just then.” He laughed softly, provoking a chuckle from the blond.

“They would be so lucky,” Draco retorted, lifting himself up enough to gaze down at the dark-haired male in adoration.

“Things are probably going to be very interesting from now on,” Harry murmured with a crooked grin, “are you ready for the impact this is going to have?”

A slow, voracious smile began to spread across the vampire’s face, eyes glowing as he gazed at his mate.

“With you,” he murmured, lowering to kiss Harry sweetly, “I’m ready for anything.”

 

END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and commented! Your comments are what keep me going! A possible sequel is in the works but it will probably depend on the amount of interest I receive. This story was so much fun to write! Thank you all again!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Vampire!Draco (Fanart)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120874) by [look_turtles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/look_turtles/pseuds/look_turtles)




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